2.  .  /^.  f^  ^ 

Stem  t^e  feifirari?  of 

(pxofmox  TTiffiatn  (ttXiffer  g()a;rton,  ©,©„  &fe.®. 

^esenfe^  6l?  (JJtrg.  (paxion 

to  t§e  feifirari?  of 

(ptinceton  ^^^eofogicaf  ^emtnarg 

BX  9225  .L35  G87  1844      ^ 
Gurley,  Ralph  Randolph,  179 
-1872. 
^  Life  and  eloquence  of  the 


51 


/^.    ^i^^^.    ^?.    c/^U-*^^:^ 


^ 


/-^-/n^^^^^-^"-^^^  • 


^^* 


E  Metoair  Piar. 


X  N.Gimbrede   Sc. 


Lii^r  ^^li^^  gi'iiiE  a.^iEjgrii ID  o 


i^je/.-  ■  f'oTK      .Vile^'   ;<c     l-'uliJ^iM    ..  .M6:     BroadM-aA'     18'l-4 


LIFE 


AND 


ELOQUENCE 


OF 


THE  REV.  SYLVESTER  LARNED, 

FIRST  PASTOR  OF  THE  FIRST  PRESBYTERIAN  CHURCH 
IN   NEW>ORLEANS. 


BY  R.  R.  GURLEY. 


NEW  YORK : 

WILEY   &   PUTNAM, 

161  Broadway. 

1844. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1844,  by 

WILEY    &    PUTNAM, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


J.  P.  Wright,  Printer, 
122FultonSt.,  N.  Y. 


To  Col.  James  Larned, 

of  Washington  City : 

July  4th,  1844. 
My  dear  Sir, — 

To  no  one  with  so  much  pleasure  or  propriety  can  I  dedicate  this 
very  imperfect  and  inadequate  Memorial,  as  to  yourself  To  your 
kindness  and  partiality  was  I  indebted  for  the  happiness  I  have  enjoyed 
in  preparing  it,  and  though  I  am  very  sensible  that  the  papers  of  your 
distinguished  brother  might  have  been  committed  to  some  person  more 
able  than  myself  to  do  him  justice,  yet,  I  may  be  allowed  to  say, 
to  no  one  cherishing  higher  respect  for  his  virtues,  or  sincerer  regard 
for  his  fame.  If,  in  this  portrait,  you  distinctly  recognize  his  expressive 
countenance,  and  he  seem  again  to  live  before  you, — and  more,  if  to 
the  thousands  who  gathered  admiringly  around  him  during  the  brief 
period  he  was  permitted  to  dwell  on  earth,  the  recollections  of  what  he 
was,  of  what  he  said,  and  of  what  he  did,  become  more  vivid  and  per- 
manent, I  shall  receive  for  this  humble  tribute,  an  ample  reward. 

I  have  the  honor  to  be.  Sir, 

With  perfect  respect, 

Your  friend  and  obedient  servant, 

R.  R.  GURLEY. 


PREFACE. 


It  is  unnecessary,  perhaps,  to  explain  the  various 
causes  which  have  operated  to  prevent  the  earlier  ap- 
pearance of  this  volume.  Though  some  years  have 
elapsed  since  most  of  the  papers  of  the  late  Mr.  Lar- 
NED  were  obligingly  placed  at  my  disposal,  a  few  were 
received  at  a  later  date^  and,  desirous  as  I  was  of  giv- 
ing to  them  early  attention,  causes  beyond  my  control, 
duties  not  to  be  postponed,  compelled  me  to  lay  them 
aside  for  a  period  of  less  disturbing  cares  and  more 
quiet  contemplation. 

In  the  mean  time,  I  sought  various  opportunities  of 
conversation  with  those  who  had  personally  known 
him,  and,  during  a  visit  to  New  Orleans,  enjoyed  the 
pleasure  of  social  intercourse  with  many  to  whom 
he  had  been  a  pastor,  and  who  were  happy  to  commu- 
nicate their  recollections  of  his  manners,  his  character, 
and  his  eloquence.  It  is  a  duty,  as  well  as  pleasure,  to 
acknowledge  special  obligations  to  the  Rev.  Dr.  Post, 
of  Charleston,  S.  C,  and  the  Rev.  J.  N.  Danforth,  of 
Alexandria,  D.  C,  for  much  valuable  aid,  and  to  other 
1* 


VI  PREFACE. 

friends,  too  numerous  to  mention,  for  interesting  facts 
and  suofo-estions. 

No  small  difficulty  was  felt  in  the  selection  of  the 
discourses  for  publication.  While  a  few  of  those 
chosen  are  from  the  early  productions  of  their  author, 
most  are  from  those  preached  but  a  short  time  before 
his  death.  Others,  and  several  of  them  perhaps  of 
merit  equal  to  any  here  submitted,  still  remain,  and 
may  hereafter  constitute  another  volume. 

It  is  a  very  general,  and,  I  think,  just  opinion,  that  no 
minister  of  the  same  age,  has  ever,  at  least  in  this 
country,  left  deeper  impressions  of  his  eloquence  than 
Mr.  Larned,  though,  in  regard  to  the  causes,  there 
may  be  some  diversity  of  sentiment. 

It  will  be  found,  that  however  much,  in  the  preach- 
ing of  Mr.  Larned,  is  to  be  ascribed  to  his  voice  and 
manner,  the  matter  and  style  of  his  discourses  are 
remarkable,  that  they  are  worthy  of  critical  exam- 
ination and  study,  and  that  those  who  would  combine 
in  their  sermons  ease  and  elevation,  simplicity  and  en- 
ergy, who  would  leave  to  their  hearers  no  time  to 
sleep,  and  no  wish  to  be  absent,  regret  only  at  the  bre- 
vity of  the  service,  and  delight  at  the  return  of  the 
Sabbath,  will  find  the  perusal  and  re-perusal  of  these 
compositions  to  their  advantage. 

But  I  trust  they  will  be  read  for  higher  ends — that, 


PREFACE.  VII 

in  them,  their  author  will  continue,  though  dead,  to 
speak ;  to  arouse  the  impenitent ;  to  encourage  the  anx- 
ious, and  confirm  the  obedient ;  to  pour  light  upon  the 
path  of  the  doubtful,  consolation  into  the  bosom  of 
sorrow,  and  to  guide  many  a  weary  pilgrim  to  the  land 
of  everlasting  rest. 

August^  1844. 


CONTENTS. 


LIFE  OP  TH£  Rev.  Sylvester  Larned        .        .        .         .     p.  13 
PRAYER  [found  among  his  papers]        .....       135 

SERMON   I. 

Matthew,  xxii,,  42. 
The  Cheiracter  of  Christ  as  Man        ....  .      129 

II. 

Acts,  xxiv,,  25. 
Paul  preaching  before  Felix 140 

III. 

1  John,  v.,  10. 
The  Witness  of  the  Spirit 149 

IV. 

[Preached  at  the  dedication  of  the  Presbyterian  Church  in  N.  Orleans,  July  4, 1819.] 

Psalms,  xlviii.,  9. 
Christianity  in  its  influence  on  Morality  and  Piety    .        .        .      164 

V.  VI.  VII. 

Matthew,  xxi.,  27. 

Objections   against  Christianity  of  equal  force  against  Natural 
Religion     ......  ...      174 


X  CONTENTS. 

VIIL 

[Preached  on  leaving  New  Orleans,  May,  1818.] 

2  Corinthians,  xiii.,  11. 

Paul's  Farewell  to  the  Corinthians p.  199 

IX. 

2  Timothy,  iii.,  16. 
The  Inspiration  of  the  Sacred  Scriptures        ....  209 

X. 

Acts,  xvii.,  11,  12. 
Duty  of  searching  the  Scriptures 223 

XI. 

[Preached  in  behalf  of  the  Sunday  School .] 

2  Timothy,  iiL,  16. 

Religious  Education 232 

XII. 

2  Corinthians,  v.,  20. 
Duty  of  Reconciliation  to  God    .......      243 

XIII. 

Jeremiah,  ix.,  23. 

Causes  of  the  Disrelish  of  Men  of  Taste  and  Letters  for  Evangeli- 
cal Religion 253 

XIV. 

James,  ii,,  10. 

Voluntary  and  Deliberate  Indulgence  of  Sin  in  any  of  its  foims 
inconsistent  with  Piety 263 

XV. 

[Preached  on  Christmas-day.] 

Luke,  ii.,  10. 

Reasons  for  Jov  at  the  Saviour's  Advent 272 


CONTENTS.  XI 

XVI. 

CoLossiANs,  iv.,  5. 
The  Duty  of  Walking  in  Wisdom  before  the  World         .         p.  281 

XVII. 

Romans,  yiii,,  7. 
Enmity  of  the  Human  Heart  to  the  Gospel        ....      287 

XVIII. 

[Preached  in  behalf  of  the  Female  Orphan  Asylum.] 

Exodus,  ii.,  8. 

Duty  of  providing  for  Orphans 297 

XIX. 

Luke,  xiv.,  18. 
Excuses  of  Impenitence  considered 305 

XX. 

[Preached  preparatory  to  the  Communion.] 

1  Corinthians,  xi.,  28. 

Duty  of  Christian  Self-Examination 313 

XXI. 

Matthew,  xiv.,  1. 
The  Character  of  Herod 320 

XXII.  XXIII. 

1  Peter,  i.,  1. 
The  Character  of  Peter 328 

XXIV. 

Acts,  xxvi.,  29. 
The  Character  of  Paul 343 


Xll  CONTENTS. 

XXV. 

Romans,  vi.,  9. 
The  Resurrection  of  Christ p.  351 

XXVI. 

James,  v.,  12, 
Against  Profane  Swearing 359 

XXVII. 

1  John,  iii,,  19 . 
Men  condemned  not  for  Want  of  Light,  but  for  Love  of  Darkness  .  366 

XXVIII. 

1  John,  iv.,  19. 
Our  Love  to  God  the  effect  of  His  Love  to  us        .        .        .  373 

XXIX. 

[Preached  after  the  Execution  of  two  Pirates.] 
Romans,  ii.,  12. 
The  Divine  Law  inexorable  in  its  demands        ....      380 

XXX. 

[Preached  on  the  First  Anniversary  of  opening  the  Presbyterian  Church.] 
Isaiah,  xxi.,  11. 
Report  of  the  "Watchman 388 

XXXI. 

[Preached  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Brand.] 
Proverbs,  xiv.,  32. 
The  Hope  of  the  Righteous 396 

XXXII. 

Deuteronomy,  xxxii,,  28,  29. 
Moral  Insanity  and  Divine  Wisdom 403 


LIFE. 


The  life  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir  was  splendid, 
but  brief.  He  was  born  in  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts, 
on  the  31st  of  August,  1796.  His  father,  Colonel  Si* 
mon  Lamed,  a  man  of  few  words,  deep  judgment, 
and  rare  wit  and  humor,  was  a  meritorious  officer 
in  the  Revolutionary  contest,  a  colonel  in  the  United 
States'  army  during  the  whole  of  the  last  war,  and  at 
one  time  represented  his  district  in  Congress.  His 
mother  possessed  extraordinary  intellectual  powers, 
eloquence,  unaffected  piety,  and  a  very  ardent  and 
energetic  spirit  of  benevolence.  "She  was,"  (says 
one  acquainted  with  her,  and  with  this  her  son  in  his 
childhood,)  "a  woman  of  masculine  mind,  abound- 
ing with  the  sources  of  a  rapid  an(d  exuberant  elo- 
quence. In  conversation  with  her — and  into  her  con- 
versation, she  always  pours  the  ardor  of  her  natural 
feelings, — I  have  often  been  surprised  at  the  native 
energy  and  copiousness  of  her  thoughts  and  lan- 
guage." Mr.  Larned  apriears  to  have  inherited  much 
of  her  peculiar  genius.  It  might  be  said,  in  the  lan- 
guage, slightly  altered,  applied  to  the  mother  of  Cur- 


14  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

ran,  "She  had  a  deep,  fresh,  womanly,  original  mind, 
like  the  clear  river  that  conies  giushing  and  flash- 
ing and  discoursing  from  the  large  lonely  mountain — 
from  the  outlaws'  and  fairies'  home  to  the  village.  She 
had  a  waste  of  old  traditions  and  passions  lying  grand 
and  irregular  in  her  soul,  and  a  bright,  warm  love  of 
her  children  came  pouring  upon  them,  and  making 
them  grow  green  at  her  feet."  She  guarded  the  mind 
of  her  son  against  the  dangers  which  beset  youthful 
genius,  and  sought  to  instil  into  his  heart  religious 
truth.  The  development  of  his  talents  in  childhood 
was  very  remarkable,  and  liis  mother  often  noticed  that 
in  his  sleep  the  motion  of  his  lips  and  fingers  showed 
that  his  mental  faculties  were  earnestly  engaged.*  "A 
certain  confident  decision  of  mind  and  manner,  (says 
one  of  his  earliest  associates,!)  an  originality  and  bold- 
ness of  thought  and  expression  ;  a  surprising  facility 
equally  of  acquiring  and  imparting  knowledge,  with 
something  like  pity  for  slower  minds  ;  a  resolute  con- 
fidence that  nothing  within  the  grasp  of  the  human 
intellect  was  too  high  for  him  to  reach,  seemed  natural 
to  him  wherever  he  was,  or  whatever  his  age."  It  is 
said  that  on  one  occasion,  when  at  play  with  his  bro* 

*  "  I  would  however  observe,  that  from  the  earliest  period  of  his  life, 
when  his  mother's  fonmess  was  watching  over  his  sleeping  hours,  his 
fingers  would  be  guiding  his  pen,  and  his  tongue  lisping  words  for 
spelling.  In  his  wakeful  hours  he  was  ever  performing  acts  of  benevo- 
lence, which  was  very  gratifying  to  his  motlier ;  and  this  disposition, 
my  dear  sir,  lived  with  him  while  he  lived.  He  has  ever  been  an  af- 
fectionate, obedient,  and  pleasant  child,  and  ever  evinced  the  greatest  af- 
fection for  his  brothers,  sisters,  and  all  maukind." — His  Mother^s  letter  to 
Dr.  Cornelius. 

t  Rev.  J.  N.  Danforthr 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  15 

ther,  he  laid  a  wager  that  he  would  make  him  weep 
by  talking  to  him,  and  that  by  his  pathos  he  soon 
melted  him  into  tears."  At  Lenox  Academy,  where  he 
became  prepared  for  college,  his  abilities  were  striking- 
ly exhibited  ;  "it  was  all  one  with  him  whether  he  re- 
cited with  one  class,  or  two  or  three  classes.  In  each 
he  was  equally  at  home,  in  each  profitinof  beyond  his 
equals."*  He  was  at  this  time  stimulated  by  the  desire 
of  obtaining  early  adiiiission  to  college. 

The  gentleman  to  whom  we  are  indebted  for  inter- 
esting reminiscences  of  these  early  years  of  Larned, 
mentions  that  as  the  courts  of  law  held  their  sessions 
in  Lenox,  some  of  the  students  of  the  academy  were 
ambitious  of  trying  their  powers  of  argument  and  elo- 
quence before  a  mock  tribunal  of  their  own,  and  that 
the  subject  of  our  biography,  as  an  advocate  in  this 
forum,  spoke  with  a  fluency,  sensibility,  self-confidence, 

♦  "As  we  were  walking  home  to  Pittsfield  one  Saturday  afternoon 
from  Lenox,  (tlie  distance  is  six  miles,  and  we  often  used  to  walk  it,) 
we  stopped  to  rest  awhile,  near  a  rock  by  the  road-side,  which  rising  a 
little  from  the  earth,  presented  so  level  a  surface,  as  to  constitute  a  kind 
of  platform.  On  this  the  young  traveller  mounted,  and  with  the  heavens 
for  a  sounding  board,  and  myself  for  an  audience,  pronounced  a  speech 
of  which  I  enjoyed  the  sole  benefit,  and  which  I,  of  course,  praised  to 
the  heart's  content  of  the  orator.  Little  did  I  tlien  think  that  these  stir- 
ring energies  of  a  boy's  mind  were  one  day  to  be  sanctified  to  God  in 
the  highest  sphere  which  is  allotted  to  man — the  ministry  of  recon- 
ciliation— that  the  young  and  nascent  genius  which  thus  broke  forth, 
as  by  a  kind  of  sudden  impulse,  would  in  future  years  cast  its  enchant- 
ments around  the  minds  of  listening  thousands. 

"  I  may  add,  how  little  did  I  suppose  that  he  who  was  thus  trying  his 
powers  of  mind  and  voice  as  matter  of  amusement  to  himself  and  to  me, 
would  one  day  seriously  encourage  and  exhort  me  to  aspire  to  that  min- 
istry which  was  now  to  be  his  work,  his  joy,  and  his  honor,  whether 
living  or  dying." — Rev.  J,  N.  Danforlh.  , 


16  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

and  originality,  that  gave  promise,  (had  he  been  des- 
tined to  the  legal  profession,)  that  few,  if  any,  would 
have  towered  above  him  in  efforts  or  fame. 

At  the  age  of  thirteen,  he  delivered  an  oration  on 
the  Fourth  of  July,  before  a  large  audience  in  his  na- 
tive town,  (the  Attorney-General  of  the  Commonwealth 
being  present,)  which  received  great  applause.  Some- 
thinsr  of  the  enthusiastic  favor  shown  towards  the  orator 
on  this  occasion  may  have  been  owing  to  his  extreme 
youth,  yet  his  performance,  now  before  us,  is  a  com- 
position of  uncommon  merit  for  one  of  his  age.* 

*  This  address,  is  stated  in  the  Presbyterian  Annual  to  have  been 
delivered  at  the  request  of  the  students  of  Pittsfteld  Academy ;  but  it 
was  certainly  heard  by  the  citizens  generally.  The  following  is  ex- 
tracted from  the  concluding  passage  : 

"  Peculiar  blessings  are  bestowed  on  the  rising  generation.  We  en- 
joy the  inestimable  privilege  of  a  Gm^emment  founded  on  equitable 
principles,  and  in  its  nature  republican.  We  have  the  experience  of 
ages  and  of  nations,  who  have  gone  before  us,  and  pointed  out  the  road  to 
empire  and  to  gloiy.  How  unpardonable  then  would  it  be  in  us,  how 
deservedly  should  we  merit  eternal  infamy,  were  we  not  to  advantage 
ourselves  by  their  examples,  and  imitate  their  virtues,  while  we  con- 
temn their  vices.  It  is  an  old  and  established  maxim,  that  *  Like  causes 
produce  like  effects.'  We  here  behold  the  rock  which  devoted  the  an- 
cient republicans  to  destruction,  and  the  causes  which  eventually  con- 
signed them  to  the  grave  of  oblivion  While  we  contemplate  the  strik- 
ing picture  of  the  baleful  consequences  of  luxury,  with  its  concomitant 
evils,  shall  we  inconsiderately  rush  onward  in  the  wild  career  of  folly 
and  extravagance,  and  meet  the  same  melancholy  fate  ?  Ah,  no!  on 
our  fathers  depends  our  salvation.  They  are  invested  with  the  powers  of 
government,  and  to  them  we  are  to  look  for  rescue  from  the  impending 
ruin.  Direct  us  aright,  and  preserve  our  morals  pure,  and  our  virtue 
unsullied,  that  we  may  vie  in  eminence  and  glory  with  the  nations  of 
the  world.  If  we  peruse  the  history  of  ancient  republics,  we  shall  find 
their  laws  and  precepts  guarding  against  excessive  wealth,  as  the  parent 
of  every  species  of  vice  and  immorality.  Beware  of  its  baneful  effects. 
They  were  careful  early  to  impress  on  the  minds  of  the  youth  a  love  of 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  17 

He  entered  Williams  College  in  1810,  beinsf  then  in 
his  fourteenth  year,  bat  the  thoiitjhtlessness  and  im- 
prudence too  natural  in  boys  of  his  peculiar  tempera- 
ment at  that  age,  led  him  into  conduct  which  caused 
his  removal,  by  order  of  the  faculty,  from  the  institu- 

economy;  and  the  smallest  deviations  from  the  rigid  rules  of  frugality 
incurred  the  severest  censure.  Trained  up  in  manly  exercise,  which 
invigorated  the  body,  and  qualified  them  to  endure,  with  pati-^nce,  hun- 
ger and  fatigue, — with  fortitude  to  combat  evils,  to  others  insurmountable, 
they  were  taught  to  despise  the  effeminacy  of  surrounding  nations.  Am- 
bitious of  their  country's  glory,  devoid  of  fear,  magnanimous  and  per- 
severing, they  ever  marched  intrepidly  onward  to  victory  or  death.  In- 
sulting monarchs,  on  their  haughty  thrones,  were  brought  to  tremble  at 
their  very  name.  While  they  preserved  this  peculiar  and  happy  mode 
of  education,  so  essentied  to  the  prosperity  of  every  community — while 
they  swerved  not  fro  n  the  principles  of  their  constitution — while  the 
love  of  country  continued  to  warm  the  breast  of  eveiy  citizen — while 
they  were  actuated  by  the  desire  of  fame,  and  inspired  with  a  laudable 
ambition,  their  national  virtues  were  preserved  in  their  original  purity, 
and  their  glories  remaining  unsullied,  formed  the  summit  of  the  felicity 
and  renown  of  republics. 

"  Having  arrived  at  this  degree  of  perfection,  wealth,  with  its  accursed 
train,  introduced  by  conquest,  and  a  more  familiar  intercourse  with  na- 
tions, absorbed  in  the  pleasures  of  sensuality,  transplanted  the  venality 
and  corruption  of  those  kingdoms  into  their  bosoms.  Their  former  hon- 
orable poverty  was  now  deemed  infamous — the  source  of  virtue  and 
honor  contaminated — soon,  too  soon,  was  their  meridian  sun  obscured 
with  clouds — rapid  their  decline — short  the  evening  of  their  day  ; — 
their  glory  levelled  with  the  dust.  These  melancholy  truths  every  page 
of  ancient  history  confirms;  and  even  '  The  mourning  shade  of  Sparta's 
self  whispers  her  assent  to  the  sad  reality.' 

"  Then,  my  friends,  let  us  endeavor  to  imitate  the  example  of  our 
worthy  predecessors,  and  strive  to  obtain  such  an  education  that  we 
may  be  useful  to  our  country,  if  our  fathers  are  able  to  entail  to  their 
posterity  the  liberty  of  their  country,  unimpaired.  And  I  trust  the  re- 
collections of  the  toils  and  dangers  which  our  fathers  passed  through  in 
acquiring  our  independence,  will  cause  our  youthful  hearts  to  glow 
with  patriotism,  and  stimulate  us  to  perform  actions  worthy  of  our- 
selves." 


18  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

tion  far  a  season.  Indeed,  at  this  time  he  appears  to 
have  wandered  into  dangerous  paths,  and  to  have 
thrown  off  in  a  great  degree  the  restraints  of  con- 
science, authority,  and  good  example.  In  1811,*  he 
was  sent  to  Middlebury  College,  where  he  found  him- 
self in  the  midst  of  a  community  distinguished  for  the 
purity  of  its  morals,  and  among  young  men  of  studious 
habits  and  religious  principles.  In  the  autumn  of  this 
year^  (but  it  is  believed  before  his  connexion  with  the 
college,)  a  remarkable  attention  to  religion  prevailed 
among  the  students,  and  about  forty  became,  it  was 
hoped,  practically  obedient  to  the  commands  of  Christ. 
When,  after  the  winter  vacation,  in  the  spring  of  1812, 
they  assembled,  the  influence  of  their  piety  was  evi- 
dent, and  their  conversation  and  religious  meetings 
attracted  the  attention,  and  made  an  impression  on  the 
mind  of  Larned.  He  was  observed,  (by  one  who  was 
subsequently  among  his  most  intimate  friends,)  imme- 
diately after  his  union  with  the  college,  to  attend  con- 
stantly the  Sunday  morning  prayer-meetings  instituted 
by  the  religious  students,  and,  at  which,  others  were 
seldom  seen.  This  excited  some  surprise,  as  his  ir- 
regular conduct  at  Williams  College  was  known  ;  but 
he  afterwards  stated,  that  on  coming  to  Middlebury  he 
resolved  to  choose  the  religious  for  his  companions, 
and  to  attend  their  devotional  meetings.  This  purpose, 
formed,  as  he  said,  from  regard  to  his  own  character,  and 
in  compliance  with  the  advice  of  his  pious  and  most 
excellent  mother,  was  carried  into  effect,  not  only  by 
his  attendance  at  the  meetings  just  mentioned,  but  by 
his  selection,  for  a  friend  and  room-mate,  of  an  intel- 

♦  According  to  Dr.  Davis :  Dr.  Post  states  in  the  spring  of  1812. 


Llt^E    OF    LARNED.  19 

ligent  and  exemplary  Christian,*  subsequently  elected 
to  a  professorship  in  the  college,  and  whose  sudden 
death  deprived  the  institution  of  one  of  its  brightest 
ornaments.  His  choice  of  virtuous  associates  was  of 
great  benefit.  It  proved  a  safeguard  against  ten)pta- 
tion,  and  by  thus  walking  with  the  wise,  he  became 
more  and  more  disposed  to  receive  those  divine  truths 
which  are  the  power  as  well  as  the  wisdom  of  God 
unto  salvation. 

For  some  time  after  his  arrival  at  Middlebury, 
thoiio;h  evincing  a  decided  respect  to  the  institutions 
and  duties  of  relijrion,  Christianity  appears  to  have  ex- 
erted no  vital  influence  on  his  heart.  The  peculiar 
warmth  and  vivacity  of  his  feelings  increased  in  him 
the  ordinary  tendencies  of  our  nature  at  his  age  to  ex- 
cess in  social  pleasures  and  frivolous  amusements. 
The  elements  of  his  character  were  powerful  and  easily 
excited.  Without  disguise,  generous,  and  possessing  an 
exhaustless  fund  of  humor  and  the  happiest  talent  for 
conversation,  liis  company  was  much  sought,  and  his 
confidence  perhaps  too  easily  obtained.!  But  of  the 
means  and  circumstances  of  that  gfreat  chanofe  in  his 
religious  views  and  purposes,  which  occurred  during 
his  junior  year  in  college,  in  the  spring  and  summer 
of  1812,  from  which  he  dated  the  origin  of  his.  best 
hopes,  and  which  directed  his  way  to   the  Christian 

♦  The  Rev.  Solomon  Allen,  chos.en  in  1816  Professor  of  the  Ancient 
Languages,  and  who  in  September,  I8l7,  died  from  injury  produced  by 
a  fall  from  the  roof  of  the  College  building. 

t  "  Who  means  no  guile,  be  guded  soonest  shall ; 

And  to  faire  semblaunce  doth  light  faith  annexe. 

The  bird  that  knows  not  the  false  fowler's  call, 

Into  his  sudden  nett  full  easily  doth  fall." 

Spenser. 


r 


20  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

ministry  as  a  profession,  I  shall  here  submit  the  state- 
ments of  several  of  his  friends,  two  of  them  fellow-stu- 
dents with  him  at  the  time,  and  the  other  intimately 
acquainted  with  the  facts  in  this  portion  of  his  Life  : 

"  About  this  time  (says  one*),  several  persons  died  sud- 
denly  in  Middlebury.  One  of  them,  a  young  man,  was 
ushered  into  eternity  without  leaving  any  evidence  of  his 
preparedness  for  heaven.  His  death  solemnly  impressed 
the  mind  of  Larned.  He  was  led  to  consider  what  would 
be  his  own  situation  if  suddenly  summoned  into  the  pre- 
sence of  his  Maker.  I  do  not  say  that  the  exhortations 
and  appeals  which  were  occasioned  by  this  dispensation  of 
Providence  had  no  influence  on  him.  They  doubtless  had. 
But  it  is  distinctly  recollected  that  he  himself  said,  they 
were  his  own,  solitary,  midnight  reflections  on  it,  that  filled 
him  with  anxiety  and  alarm.  In  accordance  with  the 
Psalmist's  declaration,  he  communed  with  his  own  heart 
upon  his  bed  and  was  still.  He  said  very  little  on  the  sub- 
ject of  religion  to  any  one,  though  from  a  few  expressions 
which  fell  from  him,  and  from  his  serious  air  and  deport- 
ment, it  was  hoped  by  his  religious  friends,  that  the  Spirit 
of  God  had  touched  and  softened  his  heart.  His  convic- 
tions were  not  sudden  but  gradual — the  result,  under  God, 
of  much  consideration.  He  reflected  upon  the  sins  of  his 
past  life — he  examined  his  heart — saw  it  destitute  of  holi- 
ness, and  was  convinced  that  for  his  transgressions  of  the 
Divine  law  he  was  justly  condemned.  His  sense  of  guilt 
for  having  so  long  neglected  the  mercy  of  God  in  Christ 
was  great,  and  he  was  ready  to  sink  into  despair. 

"  In  this  state  of  mind,  as  he  was  retiring  from  the  chapel 
after  prayers,  one  evening  in  the  early  part  of  June,  he  took 
the  hand  of  a  religious  friend,  and  said  with  emotion,  '  My 

♦  Dr.  Post. 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  21 

dear  friend,  I  am  a  lost  sinner;  will  you  pray  for  me?' 
They  retired  to  a  neiiifliboring  grove,  and  spent  more  than 
one  hour  in  prayer  and  conversation.  Lamed  returned  to 
his  room,  and  continued  for  a  number  of  days  in  great  anx- 
iety of  mind — spending  most  of  his  time  in  reading  the 
scriptures — solitary  reflection  and  prayer — having  inter- 
course with  but  two  or  three  pious  friends.  At  one  time 
he  was  told  by  an  indiscreet  though  well-meaning  individ- 
ual, that  it  was  a  sin  to  pray  before  he  had  submitted  to 
God.  This  added  for  a  while  to  his  perplexity  and  distress, 
until  led  by  a  friend  to  a  view  more  just  and  accordant 
with  the  word  of  God. 

"  From  the  time  of  liis  first  religious  impressions  until  he 
found  joy  and  peace  in  believing,  was,  it  is  thought,  a  peri- 
od of  from  two  to  three  months." 

Sa^'s  another,* 

"  If  my  recollection  be  correct,  the  providential  means 
of  his  awakening  was  the  death  of  a  neighbor  who 
was  summoned  into  eternity  on  a  very  short  warning. 
This  v»'as  not  a  new  event  to  him,  but,  by  the  agency  of  the 
Spirit,  it  was  carried  home  to  his  conscience  with  irresisti- 
ble  power.  Death  appeared  terrible.  His  sins  arose  in  ar- 
ray before  him.  The  law  uttered  its  wrathful  sentence 
against  his  guilty  soul.  What  could  he  do?  It  was  not 
until  he  bowed  in  humble  suhjecti^)n  to  the  will  of  God, 
that  he  found  peace,  and  when  he  began  to  feel  the  emo- 
tions of  a  heart  renovated  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  he  entered 
the  service  of  his  divine  Master  with  characteristic  ardor. 
He  addressed  a  letter  to  his  mother,  informing  her  of  the 
great  change  in  his  views  and  feelings,  and  telling  her 
what  delight  it  would  give  him,  on  his  return  home,  to  at- 
tend that  despised  prayer  meeting,  held  io  a  certaia  hum- 

♦  Rev.  J.  N.  Daaforth. 
8* 


22 


LIFE    OF    LARNED. 


ble  house  in  the  neighborhood,  where  he  had  been  wont  to 
attend  for  the  purpose  of  making  sport  of  serious  things. 

"  Not  that  he  was  an  infidel,  maternal  instruction  had  pre- 
occupied the  ground — but  he  would  indulge  in  that  thought- 
less impiety,  which,  while  it  provoked  God,  and  grieved  his 
people,  emboldened  the  unbeliever  in  his  career  of  wicked- 
ness. In  such  a  character,  the  change  to  piety  is  more  con- 
spicuous and  decided  than  in  one  uniformly  adorned  with 
an  amiable  morality." 

Says  a  third,* 

"  That  he  exceeded  most  others  when  he  entered  college, 
in  levity,  thoughtlessness,  and  mirth,  is  a  fact  of  which 
you  have  been  often  assured.  So  completely  did  the 
world  and  its  follies  engross  his  attention,  that  during  his 
convictions  in  his  junior  year,  he  told  me,  *he  had  no  recol- 
lection  that  the  thought  that  he  must  die  had  ever  occurred 
to  him  until  that  time.'  In  getting  his  lesson  in  astronomy, 
he  said,  *  All  at  once  he  had  such  an  overwhelming  display 
of  the  Almighty  power  and  majesty  of  God,  that  he  was  for 
some  minutes  lost  in  astonishment  and  wonder  ;  and  then 
for  the  Jirst  time  he  thought  of  the  condescension  and  good- 
ness of  God  in  sparing  and  preserving  so  insignificant  a  being 
as  himself.  His  convictions  were  of  that  deep  cast  which 
marked  the  freedom  and  strength  with  which  he  engaged  in 
every  thing  he  undertook,  even  his  amusements.  He  spent 
considerable  part  of  the  two  or  three  last  days  of  his  anxiety 
and  concern  in  my  room — some  of  the  time  almost  frantic 
with  despair — fearing  there  was  no  mercy  for  one  who  had 
lived  so  many  years  without  thinking  of  death  and  his  duty 
to  God.  After  passing  some  hours  in  the  room  alone  one 
day,  in  prayer  and  reading,  he  left  it  and  went  hastily  into 
the  woods.     I  sat  by  the  window,  and  waited  to  see  him 

♦  Rev.  B.  Chase. 


Life  dp  larned.  SS 

tetufn  ;  and  as  he  came,  I  saw  that  look  of  despair  wa.^  ex* 

changed  for  a  smile.     Coming  in,  he  exclaimed,  *  O,  C , 

I  went  into  the  woods  to  kill  myself,  for  T  could  not  endure 
such  dreadful  despair.  But  when  I  arrived  there,  I  thoufrht 
I  would  make  one  more  prayer,  and  then  act.  I  knelt  down,^ 
said  he,  '  though  I  feared  the  trees  w^ould  fall  and  crush  me, 
and  before  I  rose  I  found  such  joy  and  peace  as  cannot  be 
described !' " 

The  development  of  religious  experience  varies 
much  in  form  and  manner  in  different  individuals,  ac- 
cording to  the  varied  shades  of  opinion  and  liabits  of 
thought  in  the  different  Christian  societies  with  which 
they  are  connected.  Among  all  the  trne  disciples  of 
Christ  there  is  unity  of  spirit ;  yet  the  work  of  conver- 
sion might  be  described  in  different  terms  by  a  member 
of  the  Knoflish  church,  and  the  descendant  of  the  Pu- 
ritans-  the  one  beingf  tauofht  to  <Tnard  ao^ainst  enthusi- 
asm,  and  the  other  to  repress  no  sentiment  which  may 
serve  darkly  to  contrast  the  sin  and  misery  of  our  na- 
ture with  the  power  and  mercy  of  God.  In  sx)me  minds 
the  love  of  God  springs  up  under  the  gentle  encou- 
ragements of  the  Gospel,  while  others  are  moved  to 
seek  it  from  a  sense  of  guilt  and  the  terrors  of  a  com- 
ins:  retribution.  The  still  voice  of  reason  and  the  fair 
countenance  of  virtue  win  some  to  goodness,  while 
others  seem  at  first  inclined  to  walk  in  her  paths  by 
the  thunders  that  alarm  and  the  despair  that  overcasts 
them  in  every  other  way. 

The  conduct  of  the  subject  of  our  memoir  at  this 
crisis,  was  marked  with  all  the  sincerity,  seal,  boldness 
and  determination,  natural  to  him,  and  exalted  by  a 
sense  of  duty  and  the  love  of  Christ^     Those   who 


24  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

were  present  represent  the  scene  as  one  of  peculiar  in- 
terest, when  he  first  publicly  avowed  his  Christian 
faith  and  hope.  "  hnagine  to  yourself,"  (says  his 
friend,)  "  a  youth  of  noble  appearance,  known  to  have 
been  a  leader  among  those  uncontrolled  by  religion, 
rising  in  the  midst  of  a  crowded  room,  frankly,  but 
with  modesty  and  meekness,  expressing  regret  and 
shame  for  the  sins  of  his  past  life,*  his  utter  renuncia- 
tion of  them,  his  reliance  by  faith  upon  the  Saviour, 
and  his  purpose  to  devote  himself  to  his  service  and 
glory.  Imagine  that  you  heard  him  in  that  tone  c^ 
manly  fervid  eloquence  for  which  he  was  afterwards 
so  much  distinguished,  appeal  to  those  around  him,  and 
urge  their  reconciliation  to  God,  and  finally,  with  hu- 
mility and  earnestness,  imploring  lor  them  as  well  as 
himself,  the  choicest  blessings  of  the  Almighty,  until 
all  were  affected  to  tears,  and  you  would  have  a  faint 
idea  of  the  scene  when  the  youthful  Lamed  first  con- 
fessed Jesus  Christ  before  men." 

From  this  hour  he  entered  with  energy  upon  the 
discharge  of  his  duties  as  a  Cliristian — regularly  at- 
tended the  meetings  held  by  the  relis^ious  for  prayer 
and  mutual  improvement,  and  turning  his  tlioughts 
from  the  law,  to  which,  as  a  profession,  they  had  been 
directed,  determined  to  consecrate  his  life  to  the  ser- 
vice of  the  Most  Fligh  in  the  ministry  of  Christ. 

During  his  collegiate  course  he  showed  him- 
self  capable   of    excellence   in   general   scholarship, 

*  "  With  that,  hke  one  that  h.opelesse  was  repryv'd 

From  deathe's  dore,  at  which  he  lately  lay, 

Those  yron  fetters  wherewith  he  was  gyv'd 

The  badges  of  reproach,  he  threw  away." 

Spenxr, 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  25 

yet  bein^  somewhat  averse  to  continued  study  and 
abstruse  inquiries,  won  his  chief  distinction  in  liter 
ature  and  oratory,  thouo:h  in  one  of  his  letters  he 
speaks  of  having  amused  himself  with  calculating 
eclipses.  So  distinguished  was  he,  even  at  this  period, 
for  his  compositions  and  eloquence,  as  to  call  forth  the 
remark  from  the  president  of  the  College,*  "that  in 
these  respects  he  was  not  surpassed  by  any  youth  of 
his  years,  whom  he  had  ever  known,"  and  that  should 
he  enter  the  ministry,  and  his  life  be  spared,  "he 
would,  as  a  pulpit  orator,  have  no  superior  in  the  coun- 
try." Though  much  of  his  time  was  devoted  to  read- 
ing and  social  intercourse,  and  comparatively  little 
attention  given  to  his  lessons,  such  was  the  quick- 
ness and  force  of  his  genius,  that  he  uniformly  ac- 
quitted himself  with  credit  at  his  recitations. 

During  this  year  he  delivered  an  oration  "on  the  es- 
tablishment and  effects  of  British  power  in  Hindos- 
tan,"  which  shows  a  cultivated  intellect,  taste,  and 
imagination,!  very  rare  at  the  age  of  sixteen,  and 
clearly  foretokening  the  distinction  which  he  after- 
wards obtained. 

*  President  Davis. 

t  The  following  are  the  introductory  sentences  of  this  oration: 
"  The  loss  of  national  independence  is  a  subject  of  mournful  con- 
templation. Such  is  the  nature  of  man,  that  no  government,  of  what- 
ever description,  can  crumble  into  ruins  without  an  epitaph.  It  is  not 
with  a  nation  as  with  an  individual ;  the  man  dies,  and  his  memory  de- 
scends with  him  to  the  grave ;  but  when  a  nation  falls  a  sacrifice  to  the 
slow  but  fa  al  operations  of  revolution,  eveiy  cause  of  its  decay  is  scru- 
tinized, with  all  the  sagacity  of  the  politician,  and  the  keen  investiga- 
tion of  the  philosopher.  To  sympathise  with  unmerited  suffering  is  natu- 
ral to  the  human  heart.  This  practice,  so  amiable  in  its  nature,  and  so 
beneficial  in  its  consequences,  has  its  fouudaticm  in  a  principle  iniplaAled 


26  LIFE    of    LARNEt). 

The  following  extract  from  a  letter  to  his  sister, 
dated  at  Middlebury,  May  5th,  1813,  is  interesting,  as 
being  from  among  the  earliest  specimens  of  his  corres- 
pondence, and  as  expressive  of  his  deep  sense  of  the 
vanity  of  all  things  compared  to  the  hopes  which 
Christianity  inspires. 

"  Day  after  day  convinces  me  of  the  fading  nature  of  all 
things  below — but  still  I  go  on  as  though  I  did  not  believe  it. 
In  a  little  time  at  most,  we  shall  be  in  the  grave— of  how 
much  value  then  will  be  earthly  popularity)  riches  and  honors 
•^and  yet  how  great  a  proportion  of  the  world  are  grasping 
and  grasping  and  grasping  at  a  sliadow,  which  continually 
eludes  them,  while  the  real  substance  might  be  obtained  by 

in  our  constitutions,— a  principle  which  gives  rise  to  one  of  the  most 
noble  and  enrapturing  exercises  of  soul,  and  does  honor  alike  to  the 
man  and  the  warrior." 

After  a  glowing  description  of  the  condition  of  India  prior  to  the  in- 
vasion by  the  English,  and  the  horrible  evils  said  to  have  been  produced 
by  the  East  India  Company  and  its  agents,  he  concludes  in  these  words : 

"  Such  is  the  epitome  of  the  gloomy  history  of  Hindostan.  But,  al- 
though printed  in  blood,  although  every  page  exhibits  in  capitals  the 
name  of  the  East  India  Company,  yet  let  it  not  be  imagined  that  this 
has  been  the  effect  of  chance.  That  Being  who  rideth  upon  the  wings 
of  the  wind,  and  resteth  the  beams  of  his  chambers  in  the  waters,  also 
directed  the  energies  of  this  tremendous  storm.  He  has  promised  to 
give  his  Son  the  heathen  for  his  inheritance,  and  the  uttermost  parts  of 
the  earth  for  his  possession ;  and  he  determined  to  fulfil  this  promise  by 
the  intervention  of  these  extraordinary  agents.  After  the  thunder  had 
died  away,  and  the  lightning  had  spent  its  force,  the  rainbow  glittered 
in  the  heavens — the  star  of  Bethlehem  £irose,  and  conducted  the  bene- 
volent Swartz  and  his  compartnei-s  in  glory,  to  the  shores  of  India.  By 
the  united  efforts  of  these  modern  apostles,  the  thick  woven  veil  of  igno- 
rance has  been  torn  asunder,  and  the  light  of  the  Gospel  has  penetrated 
the  gloom  ;  and  although  it  is  yet  but  twilight,  we  confidently  hope  the 
lime  is  not  far  distant  when  the  sun  of  righteousness  shall  beam  upon 
this  ill-fated  people,  in  all  his  meridian  splendor,  and  they  shall  know 
the  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus." 


LIFE    OF   LARNED. 


27 


merely  asking  for  it.  Martha !  I  do  think  the  angels  in 
heaven  would  almost  disbelieve  this  sad  degrading  story. 
The  only  thing  for  us  to  do  is  to  work  out  our  salvation 
with  fear  and  trembhng.  Let  us  do  all  the  little  good  we 
can  while  here,  and  in  the  glorious  morning  of  the  resur- 
rection, when  the  light  of  eternity  shall  burst  upon  the  night 
of  the  grave,  we  shall  meet  our  Saviour  never  more  to  sin, 
to  weep,  or  to  be  sorrowful." 

In  the  autumn  of  this  year  he  wrote  to  his  brother 
George,  who  had  entered  the  army,  inviting  him  to  be 
present  at  the  commencement  in  Middlebury,  when 
his  connexion  with  the  college  was  to  terminate,  and 
he  was  to  deliver  an  English  oration  ;  and  responded 
with  warmth  and  patriotic  enthusiasm  to  some  expres- 
sions of  apprehension  in  his  brother's  letter,  for  the 
safety  of  his  father,  then  engaged  in  the  military  ser- 
vice of  his  country.  The  passage  too  well  illus- 
trates his  sense  of  honor  as  well  as  of  religion,  to  be 
omitted. 

"  It  did  not  surprise  me  to  hear  you  express  yourself  as 
very  anxious  for  the  safety  of  our  beloved  parent.  Your 
solicitude  cannot  surpass  mine  ;  but  I  think  I  have  one  con- 
solation— he  is  in  the  hands  of  '  his  Father  and  my  Father, 
of  his  God  and  my  God.'  I  feel  willing  to  have  him  go.  I 
believe  the  cause  in  which  he  is  engaged  to  be  a  just  one, 
and  much  as  I  deprecate  the  horrors  of  war,  I  think  every 
sinew  ought  to  be  exerted  in  its  prosecution,  especially  as 
so  great  a  part  of  the  American  people  unblushingly  oppose 
the  constituted  authorities  of  their  country.  I  should  pre- 
fer, my  dear  George,  to  see  the  heart  either  of  him  or  your, 
self  palpitating  on  the  point  of  the  bayonet,  than  to  have  you 
return  in  disgrace  and  shame  to  our  family.  Against  one 
thing  I  cannot  but  caution  you  (though  I  hope  and  believe 


28  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

it  unnecessary),  the  profaneness  of  a  military  life.  It  is  a 
strange  notion,  that  a  man  cannot  be  a  soldier  unless  he  be 
a  profane  swearer.  Where  then  is  Wallace,  Tell,  and  Wash- 
ington? Were  not  they  soldiers  ?  Were  not  they  patriots? 
Yes;  they  were.  But  they  did  not  blaspheme  the  God  that 
made  them.  An  opinion  in  favor  of  this  practice  will  not 
accompany  a  person  into  eternity — no,  it  dies  on  a  death- 
bad.  You  are  now,  my  dear  brother,  entered  upon  a  career 
which  will  either  be  useful  or  the  reverse  to  yourself  and 
friends.  Go  on — gather  the  laurels  of  renown  in  every  ho- 
norable manner  possible — remember  mercy  and  justice — re- 
member that  the  fame,  which  is  tarnished  by  the  tears  of 
the  widow  and  the  fatherless,  or  which  mixes  with  the 
diath-groans  of  a  vanquished  enemy,  is  a  poor  acquirement. 
Pursue,  in  every  respect,  the  course  of  conduct  for  which 
you  have  been  characterised,  and  you  shall  go  accompanied 
by  the  sincere  prayers  of  your  affectionate  brother." 

At  the  commencement,  in  this  year,  he  delivered  an 
oration  on  the  Fall  of  Poland.  "  It  was  especially," 
(says  a  friend  of  his,)  "in  the  then  political  state  of  the 
world,  one  of  those  free  and  inspiriting  subjects,  on 
which  he  could  spread  the  wings  of  his  imagination 
for  a  bold  and  brilliant  flight.  It  admitted,  also,  of 
ardent  and  impassioned  appeals  to  such  principles  and 
recollections  in  American  bosoms,  as  are  cherished 
with  an  enthusiasm  bordering  on  idolatry.  It  gave 
full  scope  to  that  powerful  invective,  the  weapon  so 
effectually  used  by  Demosthenes  against  the  Macedo- 
nian tyrant,  and  by  Chatham  against  a  haughty  and 
oppressive  English  ministry.  Had  Larned  entered  the 
political  arena,  he  would,  doubtless,  have  honorably 
competed  with  the  first  orators  and  debaters  in  the  na- 
tion, for  his  eloquence  was  of  that  bold,  ready,  ener- 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  29 

getic  character  so  pleasing  to  Americans,  so  conso- 
nant to  the  genius  of  our  institutions,  and  so  success- 
ful in  the  popular  assembly  of  the  nation.  There  was 
also  a  certain  elegance  and  moral  beauty,  which,  with- 
out diminishing  its  energy,  gave  it  a  captivating  power  ; 
for  there  is  that  in  human  nature  which  renders  hom- 
age te  the  beautiful  and  graceful,  whether  in  art,  sci- 
ence, nature,  or  the  living  form."* 

He  became  a  member  of  the  Church  of  Christ  in 
his  native  town  of  Pittsfield;  and  immediaiely  after 
his  departure  from  college,  commenced  his  theological 
studies  in  connexion  with  the  theological  seminary  at 
Andover,  Massachusetts.  At  this  period,  he  had  just 
entered  upon  his  seventeenth  year,  and  though  his 
sense  of  religious  duty  was  deep  and  unequivocal^  yet 
he  retained  that  fine,  unaffected,  frank  air  and  tone  of 
cheerfulness  and  independence  which  were  his  endow- 
ments by  nature,  and  which  one  of  the  best  constitu- 
tions and  unimpaired  health  had  enabled  him  to  pre- 
serve. At  this  early  age,  and  ever  after,  he  appears  to 
have  felt  an  aversion  to  mere  formal  shows  of  piety, 
and  to  have  been  more  concerned  to  acquire  sanctity 
of  character  than  the  reputation  of  it.  If  the  fault  of 
levity  was  sometimes  his,  none  ever  suspected  him  of 
insincerity  or  hypocrisy.  A  few  extracts  from  letters 
addressed  to  his  sister,  during  the  few  months  of  his 
residence  at  Andover,  will  prove  the  best  comments 
we  can  supply,  upon  his  thoughts,  sentiments,  and  pur- 
poses. The  first  is  a  playful  note,  and  bears  date 
Andover,  22d  Feb.  1844 : 

*  A  copy  of  this  oration  is  not  to  be  found  among  the  manuscripts 
before  us. 


30  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

"  My  Dear  Sister — may  command  the  first  moment  of 
leisure  I  have  had  for  several  months.  Our  studies  this  year 
are  peculiarly  pressing  and  important,  which  renders  time 
uncommonly  valuable.  However,  I  need  not  seek  for  an 
apology  :  ascribe  my  neglect  to  any  thing  you  please  but  a 
debility  of  affection.  I  see  by  a  census  sent  me  from  Pitts- 
field  by  my  friend  C ,  that  you  have  an  increase  of  popu- 
lation in  your  family.  By  the  terms  used,  ('  Capt.  H.  has 
an  assistant  advocate,')  I  conclude  that  the  youthful  mira- 
cle, as  H crills  such  things,  is  a  son.     Presuming  that 

he  has  not  a  name,  lam  disposed  to  recommend  one  for 
your  consideration — it  is  Sylvester  Larned.  The  word  Syl- 
vester is  derived  from  the  Latin,  and  conveys  the  ideas  of 
rural  scenes  and  imagery.  You  easily  perceive  the  con- 
nexion which  this  definition  has  with  the  character  of  a 
poet.  As  to  Larned,  it  carries  its  meaning  on  its  face,  for 
by  inserting  an  e,  you  will  see  it  constitutes  a  trait  of  char- 
acter which  few  are  said  to  have,  and  which  fewer  possess. 
You  will  bear  in  mind,  also,  that  the  name  belongs  to  me, 
which,  I  presume,  will  give  it  adventitious  value." 

To  the  same  : 

"  Andover,  10th  April,  1814. 
*'  1  have  taken  up  my  pen  to  write  a  plain,  honest  letter. 
If  I  should  lose  sight  of  all  the  beauties  of  style,  I  can  plead 
at  least  one  excuse,  that  my  attachment  to  an  amiable  and 
beloved  sister  needs  no  ornament  of  language  in  order  to 
appear  sincere.  Affection  need  not  beg  assistance  from  the 
dictionary  :  every  one  has  dictionary  enough  in  his  own 
head  to  speak  what  he  thmks,  and  though  some  may  write 
a  friendly  letter  without  a  friendly  heart,  no  man  can  have 
a  friendly  heart  without  writing  a  friendly  letter.  Episto- 
lary writing  is  in  itself  most  irksome  :  the  reflection  that 
we  are  addressing  a  friend  alone  is  a  recompense  for  the 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  31 

pain.  But,  dear  sister,  how  happy  should  I  be  could  I  look 
forward  to  nothing  worse  than  the  tediousness  of  letter-wri- 
ting.  To  one  of  my  youth,  impetuosity,  and  weakness,  a 
correct  prospect  of  the  future  must  give  anxiety.  Thou- 
sands, infinitely  better  than  myself,  have  sunk  under  the 
pressure  of  unexpected  temptations,  and  brought  disgrace 
upon  their  solemn  profession.  I  am  preparing  for  the  min- 
istry !     I,  who  am   but  dust  and  ashes  !     O,  M ,  you 

would  pity  me  could  you  sec  the  tumult  which  frequently 
arises  in  my  bosom.  How  unworthy  is  he  to  preach  the 
great  truths  of  redemption  in  public  to  aft  audience  that 
may  hang  upon  his  lips,  who  is  either  too  weak  or  too 
wicked  to  set  an  example  of  piety  in  private  life  !  Again 
and  again  have  I  half  resolved  to  relinquish  the  study  in 
which  I  am  engaged — to  retire  to  merited  obscurity,  and 
seek  peace  far  from  the  turmoils  of  the  world.  But  to  this 
there  are  insuperable  objections.  Duty  commands  me  to 
satisfy  the  hopes  of  my  friends,  and  to  do  all  the  good  I  can 
to  the  cause  of  religion.  Which  way  shall  I  go  ?  O,  my 
dear  sister,  all  is  dark  and  cheerless  before  me.  The  more  a 
person  advances  into  the  mysteries  of  the  Bible,  the  more 
he  is  amazed  by  the  stupendous  plan  of  Redemption,  and 
the  more  he  is  bewddered  by  a  view  of  his  own  ingratitude. 
At  times  I  feel  cheerful — a  ray  of  hope  animates  me  to  go 
on  in  the  sacred  office — a  hope  that  I  shall  not  be  suffered 
to  stain  the  records  of  Heaven  by  my  ill  conduct.  Again, 
there  are  seasons,  when  not  a  glimmer  is  seen  on  the  gloom 
of  despondency.  If  an  Apostle,  in  contemplating  the  so- 
lemuity  of  his  station,  exclaimed,  '  Who  is  sufficient  for  these 
things?'  what  shall  I  say?  But  were  I  to  relinquish  my 
present  pursuits,  where  shall  I  go  ?  It  is  more  dangerous  to 
retreat  than  to  proceed.  Proceed,  then,  I  will.  God  is 
faithful,  and  he  has  marked  out  my  destiny." 

In  his  next  letter,  dated  in  April,  he  avows  a  pur- 


32  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

pose  of  spending  his  approaching  vacation  in  Boston, 
where  he  might  pursue,  under  the  guidance  of  able 
teachers,  the  study  of  the  French  and  German  lan- 
guages, as  also  extend  his  acquaintance  among  the  in- 
telligent families  of  that  city.     He  observes  : 

"  No  instructor  in  the  French  and  German,  to  my  know- 
ledge, resides  in  this  vicinity  ;  and  as  the  pronunciation  of 
those  languages  is  such,  that  it  is  impossible  to  get  hold  of  it 
without  an  ahje  instructor,  the  Professors  of  this  College 
have  advised  me*to  spend  the  vacation  in  Boston.  Besides, 
the  knowledge  of  the  French  and  German,  and  especially 
the  French,  is  an  acquisition  which  cannot  fail  to  excite  the 
attention  of  him  who  values  an  extensive  acquaintance  with 
literature,  science,  and  especially  of  theology." 

This  plan  he  abandoned,  and  on  the  3d  of  May,  in 
a  letter  to  his  sister,  feelingly  alludes  to  the  departure 
of  his  fellow-students,  and  especially  to  his  sufferings 
when  compelled  to  bid  farewell  to  his  dear  classmates 
at  Middlebury, "  uncertain,"  he  adds, '-  whether  I  should 
ever  see  any,  and  quite  certain  that  I  should  never  see 
all  of  them  again." 

"  Never  shall  I   forget  my  emotions  when,  for  the  last 

time,  I  pressed  my  friend  B to  my  heart.     Even  now 

there  are  very  few  engagements  which  I  would  not  sacri- 
fice for  his  welfare.  Sweet,  very  sweet,  is  the  reflection, 
that  I  have  one  friend  who  loves  me :  a  friend  who,  as  such, 

honors  the  name  of  genuine  affection.     B is  a  man,  a 

friend,  a  philanthropist.     O,  could  I  see  him  a  Christian  ! 

"  Fond  as  may  be  our  reciprocal  attachment,  it  is  certain 
that  it  must  wither  in  the  hour  of  death  unless  cherished  by 
a  principle  that  never  dies.  O,  my  dear  sister,  be  assured 
that,  notwithstanding  my  propensity  to  be  gay — my  seem- 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  38 

ing  indifference,  many  of  my  hours  witness  the  anxiety  I 
feel  for  the  everlasting  welfare  of  my  friends.  I  have  just 
been  reading  the  Memoirs  of  Mrs.  Newell.  Seldom  have 
I  perused  a  more  interesting  work.  History  may  wreath 
unfading  laurels  around  the  brows  of  a  Catherine,  an  Eliza- 
beth, or  a  Jane  Shore ;  but  history  cannot  furnish  an  in- 
stance of  so  much  disinterestedness,  heroism ;  so  much  of 
every  thing  truly  admirable,  as  is  presented  in  the  charac- 
ter of  Mrs.  Newell.  Though  she  wore  no  sceptre,  and  her 
name  may  not  live  in  columns  of  marble,  yet  long  will  her 
mcmorv  be  cherished  bv  the  Christian  world  The  book 
shall  be  sent  you  as  soon  as  possible.  I  am  anxious  that 
H.  and  J.  should  peruse  it.  Some  may  attribute  her  con- 
duct to  enthusiasm.  If  this  be  enthusiasm,  I  most  sincere- 
ly pray  that  I  may  possess  it.  The  girls  will  read  the  work 
with  interest,  I  dare  say;  and  if  they  find  nothing  to  ap- 
prove in  her  religious  zeal,  will  drop  a  tear  over  the  grave 
of  a  woman  who  was  an  ornament  to  her  sex,  who  died  a 
martyr  to  the  cause  she  loved,  and  whose  spirit,  we  can  ra- 
tionally believe,  is  now  living  with  the  God  who  gave  it."* 

To  the  same : 

"  AwDovER,  7th  of  May,  1814. 
*'  You  will  feel  surprised  to  see  my  stupid  letters  crowd, 
ing  in  upon  you  so  fast ;  but  to  one  who  knows  the  since- 
rity of  my  affections,  I  need  offer  no  apology.     The  richest, 
and  almost  the  only  luxury,  of  separated  friends  is  derived 

*  While  at  Andover,  Mr.  Lamed  appeared  clad  in  a  suit  of  grey, 
which  occasioned  some  remarks  among  those  students  whose  ideas  of 
theological  learning  were  associated  with  the  grave  and  more  solemn 
color  of  black;  and  in  allusion  to  this  he  observes,  "If,  by-the-by,  he 
(Mr.  W.)  should  tell  you  some  humorous  stories  about  my  grey 
clothes,  you  must  not  be  edarmed,  for  I  am  sure  I  shall  feel  myself  for- 
tunate, if  my  character  is  never  distinguished  by  a  darker  color  than 
grey." 


34  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

from  an  interchange  of  letters  ;  and  this  is  peculiarly  the 
case  with  me,  shut  out  as  I  am  from  the  human  creation, 
and  all  companions,  save  my  reflections  and  books.  Pic- 
ture to  yourself,  sister,  a  delightful  retreat,  about  three  miles 
from  the  village  ;  place  in  the  centre  a  comfortable  farm- 
house, inhabited  by  a  worthy  but  rustic  couple,  childless  and 
noiseless,  respected  for  their  integrity,  and  famous  for  their 
butter  and  cheese;  paint  the  beautiful  Shaushire,  winding 
its  waters  so  as  to  form  a  lovelv  island  in  full  view  ;  em- 
broider  the  whole  scene  with  shrubbery  and  verdure  ;  then 
seat  your  brother  in  a  chamber  which,  though  Gothic,  is 
pleasant  and  comfortable,  and  which  commands  this  pros- 
pect of  rural  elegance,  and  you  will  form  some  idea  of  the 
place  in  which  I  shall  spend  the  present  vacation.  And 
why,  you  ask,  do  you,  so  fond  of  society,  so  in  love  with 
life,  thus  willingly  go  into  retirement  ?  Nothing  is  so  fa- 
vorable to  a  successful  examination  of  the  heart  as  seclu- 
sion. No  where,  so  well  as  in  solitude,  can  we  candidly 
canvass  the  state  of  our  moral  feelings.  And  surely  he  who 
contemplates  becoming  a  spiritual  guide,  a  pilot  through  the 
storms  of  life,  should  bi  prepared  for  the  stupendous  under- 
taking. Were  there  more  care  and  scrutiny  on  this  score 
among  the  clergy,  they  would  have  less  difficulties  to  strug- 
gle with  in  the  world.  A  man  of  equivocal  piety  stands 
little  chance  of  success  in  his  exertions,  whether  those  ex- 
ertions be  correct  or  not.  So  it  is  not  enough  to  be  pious  ; 
but  people  must  believe  it.  Hence  the  necessity  of  so  uni- 
ting humility  with  firmness,  cheerfulness  with  solemnity, 
and  forbearance  with  duty,  that  the  world  shall  be  obliged  to 
confess  '  we  have  been  with  Jesus.'  Here  we  find,  in  my 
opinion,  the  grand  reason  why  so  many  disbelieve  the  reality 
of  religion.  We  tell  them  that  all  Christians  experience  a 
radical  change  of  heart,  and  have  the  same  general  views. 
They  lead  us  to  a  church  of  150  or  200   persons,  and  ask 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  35 

US  why  the  actions,  manners,  and,  apparently,  the  motives 
of  different  members  of  this  church,  are  so  diametrically  op- 
posite.  Or,  perhaps,  they  will  show  us  two  clergymen,  one 
very  humorous  and  the  other  very  grave,  and  say,  *  One  of 
these  must  be  bad  if  you  speak  the  truth,  and  which  can 
we  safely  follow  ?'  Now,  although  this  reasoning  is  erro- 
neous, still  we  ought,  as  far  as  possible,  to  wear  away  all 
such  prejudices.  And  the  best,  perhaps  the  only  way  to  do 
this,  is  to  attend,  first  to  our  own  natures,  and  then  to  the 
natures  of  those  around  us.  By  this  means,  and  by  com- 
paring ourselves  with  others,  by  seeing  how  far  we  may  or 
may  not  make  ourselves  all  things  to  all  men,  by  ascertain- 
ing the  exact  points  of  difference  between  judicious  and  in- 
judicious example,  we  may  learn  a  lesson  which  libraries 
could  not  teach  us." 

To  this  self-inspection,  and  early  habit  of  observing" 
human  nature,  and  the  causes  which  affect  its  charac- 
ter, may  doubtless  be  traced  much  of  the  influence  and 
success  of  the  subject  of  this  memoir.  For  reasons  not 
very  clearly  stated,  he  left  Andover  after  a  few  months, 
and  took  charge  of  a  school  in  his  native  town  of  Pitts- 
field,  where  he  acquired,  in  a  short  time,  great  popu- 
larity as  an  instructor,  though  from  some  of  his  letters 
we  might  infer  that  the  employment  was  little  conge- 
nial to  his  taste.  In  two  or  three  letters  to  a  classmate, 
written  while  occupied  with  his  school  in  the  summer 
of  1815,  he  expresses  his  purpose  to  join  the  theologi- 
cal seminary  at  Princeton  before  the  close  of  the  year, 
and  in  one  thus  speaks  of  his  religious  emotions  : 

"  No  one  knows  with  wliat  anxiety  I  have  long  looked 
forward  to  my  futurity.  Few  and  valuable  are  my  hours 
of  composure.     They  come,  like   the  rainbpw,  to  gild  the 


36  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

darkness  of  the  tempest,  and  so  distant  and  deceptive  are 
they,  that  the  calmness  they  bring  is  rather  the  stillness  of 
apathy  than  the  serenity  of  a  tranquillized  heart.  But  still 
they  are  precious,  for  in  them  I  forget  that  I  am  unhappy  ; 
In  them  I  see,  too,  the  object  which  has  too  entirely  guided 
my  views,  losing  its  disproportions,  and  the  love  of  ease 
gradually  changing  to  the  love  of  usefulness.  I  sincerely 
beg  your  prayers,  that  I  may  be  directed  in  the  paths  of  duty 
and  innocence.  There  is  an  extensive  revival  of  religion 
in  Lenox,  six  miles  distant.  Twenty-five,  chiefly  young 
persons,  will  unite  with  the  Church  the  next  Sabbath.  I 
once  rejoiced  in  the  prosperity  of  religion,  and  to  some  ex- 
tent, I  now  do  ;  but  I  fear  that  if  I  ever  was  a  Christian,  I 
have  been  losing  ground  ever  since  I  first  occupied  it." 

In  another  letter  to  the  same,  he  thus  notices  the 
death  of  a  young  friend — 

"  Our  friend  and  your  classmate,  you  have  doubtless  heard, 
is  in  another  world,  and  you  v/ill  believe,  in  a  better  world. 
When  in  Andover,  I  watched  with  him.  He  was  calm  and 
composed.  His  was  a  complete  victory  over  death.  Vene- 
rated spirit !  amiable,  excellent  man  !  He  is  now  in  heaven, 
covered  with  glory  and  righteousness." 

On  the  Fourth  of  July  of  this  year,  he  delivered  an 
oration  before  the  citizens  of  Pittsfield,  exhibiting  an 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  state  of  the  country,  and 
pregnant  with  patriotic  sentiment,  and  the  fire  and 
hope  of  youthful  genius.  On  the  20th  of  November, 
he  informed  his  sister  of  his  arrival  at  Princeton,  and 
that  every  thing  in  his  situation  promised  to  make  him 
happy,  adding,  that  if  he  failed  to  improve,  and  above 
all,  in  the  piety  and  humility  of  the  Gospel  which  he 
was  preparing  to  preach,  the  fault  must  be  all  his  own. 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  37 

Indeed  the  whole  letter,  as  illustrative  of  his  character, 
and  habits  of  thought  and  expression  at  this  time,  merits 
preservation. 

"  Theological  Seminary,  Princeton, 
"Nov.  20th,  1814. 
"  My  Dear  Sister, — In  order  to  preserve  my  character  as 
a  young  ma-n  of  veracity,  I  am  seated  to  write  you  a  letter  ; 
but  what  to  say  I  am  utterly  at  a  loss.  The  truth  is,  my 
log-book,  if  you  had  the  whole  of  it,  would  not  be  ama- 
zingly interesting  ;  for,  though  I  am  placed  beyond  the 
very  frontier  of  old  associations,  I  have  hardly  had  time 
enough  since  I  left  you  to  acquire  any  new  ones.  But  to 
begin  in  regular  style  :  When  I  arrived  in  Albany,  I  met 
George  ;  but  as  you  have  probably  seen  him  I  shall  not  tell 
you  of  any  wonderful  things  that  took  place  while  we  were 
together.     In  New  York  I  quartered  with  a  gentleman  by 

the  name  of  W ,  and  the  topics  of  conversation  were,  of 

course,  not  unfrequently  confined  within  the  room  where 
you  now  sit  reading.  After  spending  six  days  in  the  great 
city,  hearing  the  Thunderer*  preach,  seeing  all  the  curiosities, 
&;c.,  &;c.,  I  took  the  steamboat  for  Princeton.  Judge  of 
my  feelings  in  landing — the  first  man  I  saw  in  New-Jersey 
was  my  father !  I  could  only  speak  to  him,  when  the  infa- 
mous horns  blew  us  apart,  and  I  again  set  forward.  But 
you  must  tire.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  with  the  privilege  of 
a  drunken  driver,  and  a  furious  set  of  horses,  we  broke  down 
only  twice,  and  arrived  here  only  five  hours  later  than  we 
expected.  Princeton  is  on  a  hill,  the  only  hill  I  have  seen 
in  the  State.  I  tell  the  Jerseyans  they  are  deficient  in  one 
ornament  which  New-England  possesses,  in  those  noble 
mountains  which  seem  left  by  Nature  not  only  for  their 
splendid  display  of  sublimity  and  beauty,  but  as  specimens 

*  Dr.  Mason. 


38  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

of  the  spirits  that  thrive  under  their  brows.  The  people  in 
this  quarter  are  crowded  into  villages,  between  which  you 
will  see  nothing  but  a  long  Arabian  kind  of  desert,  which 
presents  a  striking  contrast  to  the  Eastern  States,  that  are 
so  elegantly  dotted  over  with  the  marks  of  cultivation. 

**  But  to  return  to  Princeton.  It  is  a  small  village,  con- 
taining nothing  remarkable  but  the  literary  and  theological 
institutions.  The  first  is  represented,  here  at  least,  the 
finest  in  the  country.  It  has  at  present  say  130  students  ; 
the  Divinity  College  has  just  40.  For  the  last  there  is  no 
building  yet  erected,  but  a  foundation  for  one  is  laid,  and 
the  thing  begins  to  move  forward  with  rapidity  and  success. 

Our  professors  are  Doctors and ,  in  whom 

every  one  appears  to  have  unlimited  confidence.  So  far  as 
I  have  had  opportunity  to  judge,  I  should  pronounce  them 
men  '  full  of  faith  and  the  Holy  Ghost.'  The  young  men 
under  their  care  are  generally  genteel,  friendly,  and  pious. 
Indeed,  one  of  the  traits  almost  every  one  here  possesses  is, 
particularly,  politeness.  I  don't  know  that  Princeton  is  re- 
markable for  its  piety  ;  but,  situated  between  the  two  great 
cities  of  America,  and  settled  in  no  small  degree  by  the  first 
families,  it  can  hardly  fail  of  being  polished.  Mr.  Post  is 
my  room-mate,  and,  thus  far,  every  thing  I  have  seen  pro- 
mises to  make  me  happy  ;  and  I  can  only  say,  that  if  I  do 
not  improve  in  the  facilities  of  every  kind  which  surround 
me,  and,  above  all,  in  the  piety  and  humiUty  of  the  Gospel 
Vwhtch  I  am  preparing  to  preach,  the  fault  is  my  own.  I 
must  not  forget  to  mention,  for  Sarah's  sake,  that  the  new 
pronunciation  is  in  vogue  here,  *  to  the  nines ' :  duty  is  called 
juty ;  virtue,  virchue ;  tune^  chune ;  pursue,  purshew,  &c.  For 
the  sake  of  appearing  like  others,  and  avoiding  obstinacy,  I, 
even  I,  have  adopted  the  new  system,  though  I  do  actually 
despise  it  as  much  as  ever,  and  a  little  more.     Give  my  love 


LIFE    OP    LARNED.  39 

to  Sarah,  Aunt  H — ,  the  Major,  Mary,   Sally,  and  Harriet, 
and  do  not  write  to  me,  I  beg  of  you. 

"  I  remain,  as  usual, 

*'  Your  affectionate  brother, 

"Sylvester." 

During  his  residence  at  Princeton,  though  he  was 
accustomed  to  give  much  less  time  than  others  to  his 
studies,  he  made  rapid  improvement,  and  was  always 
prepared  for  examination  on  the  subjects  which  occu- 
pied the  attention  of  his  class.  What  many  of  his  com- 
panions investigated  slowly,  and  acquired  with  dif- 
ficulty, he  perceived  at  a  glance,  and  immediately 
made  his  own.  The  energy,  originalit}'-,  and  compre- 
hensiveness of  his  mind  enabled  him  to  brinsf  under 
examination  at  once  the  complex  parts  of  a  great  sub- 
ject, to  seize  upon  the  best  methods  and  examples  for 
illustration,  and  the  strong  arguments  by  which  it  might 
be  enforced. 

To  a  near  relation,  whose  husband  had  experienced 
heavy  pecuniary  losses,  under  date  of  31st  May,  1816, 
he  thus  writes : 

"  You  are  supposing,  I  fear,  that  you  are  in  uncommon 
affliction  )  but  have  you  ever  inquired  who  gave  you  a  kind 
and  affectionate  husband  ?  who  has  blessed  you  with  three 
dear  children,  on  whom  your  fondest  hopes  delight  to  re- 
pose ?  why  your  parents,  your  brothers  and  sisters,  are  con- 
tinued to  you  ?  why  you  are  permitted  to  enjoy  the  Gospel, 
and  to  anticipate  a  home  of  everlasting  rest  ?  These  ques- 
tions should  be  asked  whenever  the  murmur  or  complaint 
is  about  to  arise.  View  this  and  every  other  affliction  as  the 
chastisement  of  a  heavenly  Parent.     *  Have  you  received 


40  I^IFE    OF   I^ARNED. 

good  at  the  hand  of  God,  and  shall  you  not  receive  evil  f 
Let  every  thing  of  this  nature  lead  you  nearer  to  God,  wean 
you  more  from  the  world,  and  you  may  yet,  like  the  Apostle, 
*  rejoice  in  tribulation.'  In  a  temporal  view,  I  have  only 
one  thing  to  fear — that  your  noble-hearted  husband  may  be 
tempted  to  despond  ;  but  I  hope  and  pray  it  may  not  be  so. 
He  has  talents  of  the  first  rank — he  has  perseverance  al- 
most  to  a  maxim,  and  he  has  a  generous  heart.  With  these  , 
he  may  easily  recover  ;  and  if  he  can  once  recover  from  this 
shock,  his  second  trial  wi'rl  be  surer— he  will  learn  prudence 
and  coolness — so  that  this  present  trial  may  prove  an  ad- 
vantage to  him." 

After  alluding  to  some  obstacles  in  the  way  of  his  * 
continuance  at  Princeton,  which,  however,  had  been 
overcome,  he  thus  speaks  in  a  letter  to  his  sister,  June 
6th,  1816  : 

"  Many  of  my  friends  may,  perhaps,  be  disposed  to  in- 
quire why,  amidst  so  many  obstacles,  I  should  persist  in  the 
study  of  divinity.  I  answer,  my  profession  has  been  cau- 
tiously and  conscientiously  adopted.  A  sense  of  duty  alone 
could  have  driven  me  forward  when  I  was  sensible  how  many 
/  sacrifices  I  must  make — how  many  prospects  relinquish. 
To  this  sense  of  duty  I  have  adapted  my  conduct ;  by  it  I 
have  suffered  myself  to  be  directed  ;  and  thus  far  I  do  not 
repent.  I  am  well  aware  how  often  it  is  said  that  a  temper 
like  this  savors  of  bigotry  and  enthusiasm  ;  but  it  has  been 
my  duty  to  cultivate  it,  and  I  am  not  sorry.  If  the  great 
Head  of  the  Church  be  pleased  to  make  me  an  instrument 
of  advancing  the  temporal  and  spiritual  interests  of  men  in 
any  degree,  it  will  be  a  compensation  more  than  equal  to 
every  sacrifice  and  every  privation." 

At  this  period,  he  not  only  added  largely  to  his 
stores  of  theological,  but  of  general  knowledge,  and 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  41 

assiduously  cultivated  both  his  intellectual  powers 
and  personal  piety.  He  also  engaged  with  ardor 
and  resolution  in  many  active  duties,  and  kindly 
sought  to  benefit  the  members  of  the  college.  In  a 
sketch  of  his  life  which  appeared  in  the  Presbyterian 
Annual  for  1832,  it  is  stated,  "  that  he  exerted  a  great 
influence  over  the  minds  of  the  youth  generally ;  and 
it  is  believed  that  in  more  cases  than  one,  he  was  the 
honored  instrument  of  converting  to  God  those  who 
have  since  preached  the  Gospel  themselves."  His  re- 
ligious feelings  became  more  vigorous  and  warm  during 
the  last  years  of  his  connexion  with  the  institution.  He 
spent  a  short  time  in  Elizabethtown  and  Newark  dur- 
ing a  period  of  much  attention  to  religious  subjects, 
and  from  these  places  returned  with  higher  purposes 
of  intellectual  and  spiritual  improvement,  for  the  pro- 
motion of  piety  among  the  members  both  of  the  college 
and  seminary. 

The  following  letter  of  condolence,  addressed  to  his 
brother  George  on  the  loss  of  his  wife,  is  an  eff'usion 
of  much  tenderness,  blended  with  religious  sentiments 
appropriate  to  the  sadness  of  the  occasion  : 

"Princeton,  24  Feb.,  1817. 
*'  My  Dear  George, — Will  you  consider  it  an  intrusion  on 
the  sacredness  of  affliction,  if  I  offer  the  sympathy  of  a  heart 
which  bleeds  with  your  own  ?  Rest  assured,  it  is  not  the  dic- 
tate of  custom,  but  of  friendship  and  feeling,  that  moves 
my  pen.  Most  sincerely  can  I  say  that  my  tears  flow  with 
yours.  Had  I  never  known  our  dear  Emily,  still  I  could 
weep  that  an  affectionate  brother  was  widowed  of  his  hopes 
and  happiness.  But  I  did  know  her.  I  had  witnessed  the 
loveliness  of  her  character  ;  I  had  seen  the  opening  of  that 


42  LIFE    OF   LARNED. 

sweet  blossom  which  is  now  withered  forever.  Is  it  not 
natural,  then,  is  it  not  just,  that  I  should  be  deeply  affected 
by  an  event  which  blasts  at  once  so  many  fond  expecta- 
tions, and  shrouds  so  many  brilliant  and  beautiful  prospects  ? 
But  I  forbear.  Far  from  me  be  the  cruelty  of  recalling 
those  scenes  of  distress,  through  which  you  have  lately  been 
doomed  to  pass.  But,  my  dear  brother,  dearer  than  ever  to 
my  heart,  may  I  add,  there  is  one  consolation  which  should 
soothe  your  distracted  breast :  Emily  has  died  in  the  blessed 
hope  of  immortality  beyond  the  grave.  Here,  amid  all  your 
sufferings,  is  cause  of  gratitude.  I  know  that  we  are  all 
apt  to  murmur  at  the  bereavements  of  Providence.  When 
our  peace  is  disturbed,  or  our  happiness  interrupted,  it  is  hard 
to  submit.  It  is  hard  to  believe  that  our  afflictions  are  not 
the  frowns  of  a  Judge,  but  the  chastisement  of  a  Parent.  And 
yet  do  we  not  hold  all  our  blessings  as  pensioners  on  the 
bounty  of  Heaven  ?  *  Shall  we  receive  good  at  the  hand 
of  the  Lord,  and  shall  we  not  receive  evil  V  Has  not  He 
who  gave,  a  right  to  take  away?  Let  us,  then,  calm  our 
agitated  feelings.  We  know  that  what  is  done  is  right. 
Although  the  violence  of  grief  may  hide  from  our  eyes  the 
justice  of  the  sentence  under  which  we  mourn,  yet  we  may 
safely  rest  on  that  promise  which  has  softened  and  sancti- 
fied the  most  agonizing  dispensations  :  '  Come  unto  me  all 
ye  that  labor  and  are  heavy  laden,  and  I  will  give  you  rest.' 
O,  may  the  death  of  our  dear  departed  friend  warn  us  of  our 
mortality.  May  it  teach  us  that  the  enjoyments  of  earth 
are  at  best  but  transitory  and  uncertain.  May  it  detach  our 
affections  from  the  world  and  fix  them  upon  high  and  noble 
objects.  May  it  lead  us  to  a  Saviour  who  died  for  our  sins, 
and  who  is  presenting  to  us,  every  day  of  our  lives,  the  of- 
fers of  mercy,  pardon,  and  immortality." 

To  his  sister  afflicted  by  the  loss  of  her  child,  he 


LIFE    OP    LARNED.  43 

soon   after   wrote,   under  date   of  the  24th  of  May, 
1817: 

"  There  is  no  affliction  which  befals  you,  especially  of  such 
a  nature  as  that  of  the  loss  of  a  dear  child,  in  which  I  do  not 
participate.  I  sometimes  think  that  those  who  go  soonest 
are  most  happy.  At  any  rate,  they  escape  the  trials  which 
await  mature  age.  Thus  far  they  are  certainly  gainers  ;  and 
we  may  hope  that  those  who  die  in  infancy  are  washed  in 
the  blood  of  the  Saviour,  not  so  much  because  the  Scrip- 
tures have  settled  this  question,  as  because  where  sin  abound- 
ed grace  does  much  more  abound.  Nor  is  it  an  objection  to 
this  hypothesis,  that  faith  is  made  necessary  under  the  New 
Testament,  for  faith  is  not  of  ourselves — it  is  the  gift  of 
God.  Why  not,  then,  suppose  the  gift  extended  to  infants 
in  the  same  way  as  to  adults,  since  there  is,  in  either  case, 
no  merit.  But  if  it  be  comfortable  to  hope  that  those  who 
die  in  infancy  are  happy,  much  more  should  it  be  to  remem- 
ber that  God  is  just  and  right.  Whatever  are  our  allotments, 
He  is  the  same.  Let  it,  then,  be  our  concern  to  secure  an 
interest  in  his  favor,  an  inheritance  incorruptible,  undefiled, 
and  that  fadeth  not  away.  I  expect  to  be  ordained  in  New- 
York  on  the  15th." 

Near  the  commencement  of  the  year  1817,  the  Rev. 
Elias  Cornelias  was  appointed  by  the  Trustees  of  the 
Connecticut  Missionary  Society,  to  engage  in  a  mis- 
sionary tour  through  the  south-western  States,  and 
more  especially  to  visit  New-Orleans,  (at  that  time 
containing  a  population  of  30,000,  and  but  one  Protes- 
tant minister,)  to  examine  its  moral  condition,  and 
while  preaching  the  Gospel  to  many  who  seldom 
heard  it,  to  invite  the  friends  of  the  Congregational  or 
Presbyterian  communion  to  establish  a  Church,  and  se- 


44  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

cure  an  able  and  faithful  pastor.  He  was  also  de- 
sired by  the  Prudential  Committee  of  the  American 
Board  of  Commissioners  for  Foreign  Missions,  to 
arouse  the  public  to  the  claims  of  our  Indian  tribes, 
and  solicit  funds  for  the  education  of  their  children. 
Animated  by  that  apostolic  zeal  which  finally  con- 
sumed him,  on  the  the  13th  of  January,  1817,  he  pro- 
ceeded through  the  southern  portions  of  Massachu- 
setts and  Rhode  Island,  Hartford  and  New-Haven  in 
Connecticut,  New-York,  New-.Tersey,  Philadelphia, 
Baltimore  and  Washington,  parts  of  Virginia  and  Ten- 
nessee, remained  some  time  among  theCherokees,  and 
after  a  journey  of  3000  miles,  (during  which  he  preach- 
ed one  hundred  and  fifteen  times,  and  raised  about 
,^4.400,)  arrived  in  New-Orleans  on  the  30th  of  De- 
cember. It  was  doubtless  arranged^  while  Mr.  Corne- 
lius was  in  New- Jersey,  that  Mr.  Larned  should  soon 
follow  him,  since  the  latter  addressed  a  letter  dated 
July  7th,  1817,  to  the  former  at  Washington  City,  in 
which  he  says, 

"  Ascribe,  my  dear  friend,  my  apparent  remissness  in  any 
case  to  any  things  rather  than  want  of  affection — to  any  thing 
rather  than  a  suspension  of  the  high  interest  I  shall  take  in 
every  step  of  your  tour,  and  in  every  blessing  you  dispense 
while  performing  it.  I  do  most  sincerely  pray  that  the 
great  Head  of  the  Church  may  keep  you  in  the  hollow  of 
his  hand,  and  qualify  and  furnish  you  for  the  service  in 
which  we  have  aHke  enlisted.  But  to  myself:  On  Tues-. 
day  week  I  expect  to  be  ordained  in  New-York — shall  leave 
Princeton  the  day  after  to-morrow,  with  a  thousand  regrets 
known  to  none  but  the  aching  bosom  in  which  they  lie. 
After  my  ordination,  my  project  is  to  return  to  Massachu- 
setts, spend  six  or  seven  weeks  with  my  friends,  and  then 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  45 

for  the  great  object.  By  the  by,  it  is  probable  I  shall  change 
my  route,  and  go  by  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  Charleston, 
&c.,  dec,  to  Savannah,  whence  I  shall  ship  for  New-Or- 
leans.  I  say  probable.  The  General  Assembly  appointed 
Doctors  Nott  and  Romeyn  for  this  duty.  If  one  of  them, 
which  seems  likely,  should  decline,  the  plan  is,  that  I  should 
accompany  the  other — if  both  dechne,  that  I  should  go 
alone." 

To  Mrs.  Larned*  (the  wife  of  his  brother  Col.  James 
Larned),  in  Washington  City,  he  wrote  "in  great 
haste"  from  New- York,  on  the  16th  of  the  same 
month  : 

"I  have  taken  my  pen  with  a  mind  deeply  solemnized 
by  the  transactions  through  which  I  have  just  passed.  Yes- 
terday I  was  ordained,  in  this  city,  to  the  work  of  the  min- 
istry. The  services  were  performed  in  the  Brick  Church. 
Dr.  Romeyn  preached  the  sermon,  Mr.  Springf  made  the 
consecrating  prayer.  Solemn,  indeed,  my  dear  sister,  is  the 
responsibility  with  which  I  am  now  invested.  O  that  I  may 
live  the  reli^i  n  to  the  service  of  which  I  am  now  conse- 
crated  !  O  that  God  would  communicate  to  me  abundantly 
of  His  Spirit,  to  lead  and  encourage  me  in  the  path  of  duty 
— to  hold  me  back  from  every  action  calculated  to  wound 

*  This  admirable  lady,  eminent  alike  for  her  intelligence  and  varied 
accomplishments,  and  during  her  latter  years,  for  active  benevolence 
and  unfeigned  piety,  died  soon  after  the  wife  of  the  subject  of  this  me- 
moir, inWashington  City. 

t  The  present  Rev.  Dr.  Spring,  To  this  gentleman  I  am  indebted 
for  the  following  anecdote :  At  the  close  of  Mr.  Lamed's  examina- 
tion by  the  Presbyteiy,  the  duty  of  preaching  before  that  body  was  as- 
signed to  him  for  the  next  day.  He  informed  Dr.  Spring  that  he  had 
no  sermon.  The  Doctor  suggested  that  he  (Mr.  L.)  might  occupy  his 
study,  and  that  he  should  retire  thither  immediately.  He  did  so,  and 
during  the  night  prepared,  and  the  next  morning  preached,  a  good 
sermon. 

3* 


46  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

the  cause  of  the  Redeemer — to  make  me  useful  to  the  Church 
and  the  world,  and  to  prepare  me  to  meet  many  seals  of  my 
ministry  in  the  temple  above.  Looking  beyond  the  temp- 
tations by  which  we  are  apt  to  be  dazzled  in  the  present 
world,  how  interesting,  how  important,  how  sublime,  is  the 
situation  of  a  herald  of  the  everlasting  Gospel ! — that  Gospel 
which  brings  life  and  immortality  to  light — that  Gospel 
which  holds  out  to  fallen  man  the  only  hope  of  salvation 
when  these  heavens  and  this  earth  shall  have  passed  away. 
Well  might  the  mind  faint  under  such  contemplations,  were 
it  not  for  that  heavenly  promise,  '  My  grace  shall  be  suffi- 
cient for  you.'  This,  truly,  is  a  delightful  reflection.  No- 
thing  can  have  a  greater  tendency  to  urge  a  minister  for- 
ward in  his  labors,  than  to  remember  that  he  is  but  an  in- 
strument in  fulfilling  the  great  plans  of  God — that  whether 
he  be  peculiarly  blessed  or  not,  these  plans  will  move  on  to 
their  consummation ;  and  that  one  of  them  of  the  highest 
promise  is,  to  save  those  who  believe,  by  the  foolishness  of 
preaching." 

Mr.  Larned's  first  appearance  as  a  preacher  excited 
the  highest  expectations  of  the  public,  and  left  none 
who  heard  him  to  doubt  the  fervor  of  his  devotion,  the 
force  of  his  intellect,  or  the  simplicity,  elevation,  and 
power  of  his  eloquence.  Love  and  admiration  attend- 
ed his  steps,  churches  were  thronged  wherever  he 
preached,  and  the  elements  of  moral  and  intellectual 
greatness  so  embodied  in  his  fine  commanding  per- 
son, the  intonations  and  compass  of  a  voice  never 
perhaps  excelled,  and  an  entire  manner  natural, 
bold,  winning  and  majestic,  left  impressions  upon 
every  assembly  he  addressed,  not  to  be  eifaced.  He 
hastened  to  the  bosom  of  his  family  in  Pittsfield, 
to  share  for  a  few  days,  communion  with  those  most 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  47 

dear  to  him,  and  to  prepare  for  his  southern  tour ; 
but  he  had  only  arrived  when  he  was  called  to  per- 
form the  last  sad  offices  of  relio^ion  in  respect  to  a 
near  relative  and  friend,  while  the  illness  of  his  fa- 
ther threw  anxiety  and  gloom  upon  this  home  of  his 
affections. 

To  one  of  his  most  intimate  friends  (now  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Post  of  Charleston),  he  wrote — 

*'  With  heartfelt  pleasure  I  to-day  received  your  letter, 
accompanied  by  one  from  Nevins  and  another  from  Mrs. 
Bayard.  At  no  period,  more  than  at  the  present,  could  I 
feel  the  value  of  your  friendship  and  sympathies.  Little  did 
I  think  when  I  reached  home,  that  a  second  bereavement 
would  so  soon  be  added  to  that  which  I  vvas  last  winter  called 
to  deplore  in  the  death  of  Emily.  Little  did  I  imagine  that 
on  the  very  morning  of  my  ordination  in  New-York,  the 
kindness  of  strangers  in  a  distant  city  was  depositing  the 
remains  of  Frederick  Lamed  in  the  dust.  You  will  remem- 
ber that  he  was  a  cousin,  very  dear  to  all  our  famil}'^,  of 
which  he  had  often  been  an  inmate.  Findinsr  his  health 
declining  in  Boston,  he  shifted  the  operations  of  his  busi- 
ness, and  removed  to  Augusta,  in  Georgia.  Not  far  from 
the  10th  of  July,  he  was  taken  with  a  bilious  disease  inci- 
dent to  northern  constitutions  in  his  adopted  climate ;  but 
nothing  alarming  appeared  in  his  case  until  on  Sunday 
morning  the  13th,  the  servant  unhappily  ]e[t  the  room  for  a 
few  minutes,  and  on  his  return  the  patient  was  gone.  Every 
search  was  immediately  made.  The  intendant  of  the  city 
ordered  no  expense  to  be  spared — but  no  tidings.  On  Mon- 
day about  noon,  orders  were  given  to  prepare  suitable  in- 
struments for  dragging  through  the  Savannah  river,  when, 
just  as  the  instruments  were  to  be  applied,  a  cry  was  heard 
that  a  body  was  found  floating  on  the  water,  and  on  examin- 


48  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

ing  it,  it  proved  to  be  all  that  was  left  of  my  poor  lost  cousin. 
In  a  paroxysm  occasioned  by  the  fever,  he  had  thrown  him- 
self into  the  river.  Yesterday,  at  the  particular  request  of 
his  mother,  his  brother,  Capt.  Larned,  and  his  two  sisters,  I 
delivered  a  funeral  discourse.  I  was  deeply  affected  by  the 
reflection,  that  on  the  same  day  Frederick  was  laid  in  the 
grave,  while  I  was  set  apart  to  the  ministry.  My  first  sermon 
in  the  place  where  both  of  us  were  educated  together  was  a 
funeral  sermon  for  him.  *  The  Lord  gave,  and  the  Lord  hath 
taken  away,  and  blessed  be  the  name  of  the  Lord.'  I  feel, 
my  dear  Post,  an  unusual  melancholy  and  solitariness,  if  I 
may  say  so,  hanging  around  my  heart.  My  brothers  and 
sisters  are  all  far  away;  Emily  is  dead,  Frederick  is  dead, 
and  every  relative  in  this  place  wears  the  badge  of  mourn- 
ing. My  father,  besides,  is  quite  ill,  and  has  been  so  for  ten 
days.  But  I  will  not  recount  events  that  ought  to  purify 
rather  than  sadden  me." 

To  the  same,  under  date  of  September  25th,  1817, 
(the  night  before  his  departure  for  New-Orleans,)  he 
writes, 

"  It  is  now  2  o'clock  in  the  morning,  and  all  the  family  but 
myself  are  asleep.  I  cannot  sleep.  The  moon  shines  very 
brightly  ;  my  portmanteau  and  valise  lie  by  me,  packed  for 
to-morrow's  stage.  Joseph  goes  with  me  to  Detroit.  I 
feel  like  a  child.  It  is  foolish,  but  I  cannot  help  it.  I  have 
a  feeling  which  superstition  would  call  a  presentiment,  that 
I  shall  never  more  see  my  native  town,  or  the  kindred  scenes 
which  render  it  dear  to  me.  This  feeling  was  strengthened 
by  the  parting  through  which  I  yesterday  passed.  Martha 
wept  as  usual ;  but  never  did  I  before  see  Colonel  H.  and 
the  little  children  weep.  He  was  very  much  affected.  O 
my  dear  Post,  you  cannot  imagine  my  strange  feelings.  In- 
deed, I  should  not  tell  you  them,  did  I  not  believe  you  loved 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  49 

me.  I  do  most  sincerely  thank  you  for  your  refreshing  let- 
ter. It  was  handed  me  this  evening.  So  strange  were  my 
emotions,  that  I  thought  at  the  moment  you  were  dearer  to 
me  than  any  other  human  being.  But  this  was  fancy,  or 
something  as  wild.  It  is  not  fancy,  however,  to  assure  you, 
that  you  hold  a  very  large  place  in  my  heart.  I  think  I 
love  you  better  every  day.  Little  do  they  know  me,  who 
think  I  did  not  wish  to  stop  at  Princeton." 

With  the  following  effusion  of  his  warm  and  gene- 
rous nature  he  concludes  this  letter, 

"  I  can  only  say,  if  I  can  do  any  thing  for  you,  at  any 
sacrifice,  I  will  most  cheerfully  do  it.     Never  have  I  felt 

purer  joy  than  when  I  heard  of  E 's  joining  the  Church, 

and  of  J.  S.'s  intention  to  do  the  same.  Remember  me  to 
both  of  them,  and  to  all  I  esteem.  Shall  write  to  Nevins 
and  Chamberlain  before  I  get  far. — Expect  to  preach  next 

Sabbath  in  Utica.    The  people  of ,  I  had  forgotten  to 

tell  you,  have  offered  me,  and  I  believe  unanimously,  any 
salary,  if  I  will  settle.  And  now,  my  dear  friend,  farewell. 
Futurity  looks  dark  ;  the  present  is  dark,  and  the  past  gives 
me  little  complacency.  May  the  great  Shepherd  of  Israel 
give  you  every  blessing,  and  make  you  useful  and  happy. 
With  singular  feeling  and  sincere  attachment,  I  remain, 
&c." 

To  the  Rev.  Mr.  CorneliiiSj  who  had  preceded  him 
in  his  course  to  New-Orleans,  he  wrote  from  Buffalo 
on  the  11th  of  October,  apologising  for  not  having  ear- 
lier addressed  him,  and  mentioning  his  detention, 
owing  to  the  want  of  conveyance  to  Detroit. 

"  During  my  leisure,"  (he  observes,)  "I  have  gone  to  the 
Falls,  to  Lake  Ontario,  and  to  the  theatres  of  the  dreadful 
battles  fought  on  this  frontier  during  the  war,   I  have  also  just 


50  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

returned  from  a  visit  to  a  settlement  of  Indians  denominated 

the  Six  Nations, 

"The  celebrated  Falls  of  Niagara  are  inimitably  grand  and 
awfal.  O  Lord,  how  manifold  are  thy  works !  in  wisdom 
hast  thou  made  them  all.  As  to  the  battle-grounds,  I  cannot 
say  they  gave  me  much  satisfaction.  The  reflection  constant- 
ly passing  in  my  mind,  that  in  all  probability  the  majority  of 

those  who  fell  there  were ,  God  only  knows.     We,  too, 

my  dear  brother,  are  soldiers  ;  but  how  different  the  object 
and  the  weapons  of  our  warfare.  We  come  in  the  name  of 
the  Captain  of  salvation,  to  announce  to  mankind  the  intelli- 
gence of  Jesus  Christ,  and  him  crucified.  We  are,  or  ought 
to  be,  clad  in  the  armor  of  the  everlasting  Gospel.  Let  it, 
then,  be  our  object  to  discharge  our  commission  with  that 
courage  and  fidelity  so  characteristic  of  those  who  have  a 
master  and  motives  infinitely  inferior  to  our  own." 

From  the  same  place,  he  wrote  on  the  14th  to  his 
friend  Post,  alluding  with  much  sensibility  to  the 
death  of  Professor  Allen  : 

"You  will  mourn  with  me,  my  dear  Post,  for  you  knew  and 
loved  him.  Imagine  my  feelings,  when,  casting  my  eye  trans- 
iently over  a  New- York  paper,  I  saw  the  name  of  Allen  under 
the  head  of  deaths.  *  Blessed  are  the  dead  who  die  in  the 
Lord.'  Yes,  thou  excellent  man,  we  believe  that  the  Lord  Jesus 
Christ  has  received  thy  spirit !  My  dear  Post,  you  are  near 
to  New-York,  and  I  wish  you  to  write  a  short  dbiluary  notice 
for  the  Spectator.  Direct  to  Messrs.  Lewis  &;  Hall,  and  re- 
quest them  in  my  name  to  insert  it.  I  say  in  my  name,  for  I  do 
not  recollect  that  you  are  acquainted  with  either  of  them. 
So  does  life  waste  away !  Let  us  improve  this  solemn  and 
affecting  Providence,  and  prepare  to  follow  our  deceased 
friend  to  the  mansion  of  our  common  Lord  and  Redeemer. 
I  am  detained  in  this  place  from  the  want  of  a  favorable 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  51 

wind.  Already  behind  the  season,  behind  my  arrangements, 
and  behind  the  expectations  of  the  Board  of  Missions,  you 
can  readily  conceive  my  anxiety  to  get  forward.  Since  I 
heard  of  Allen's  death,  I  feel  an  unusual  depression.  Which 
of  us  must  go  next  ?  probably  myself.  I  have  entered  on  a 
hazardous  and  difficult  object,  but  in  the  strength  of  the 
God  of  Israel  I  will  proceed.  O,  that  I  had  more  piety  to 
sustain  and  strengthen  me.  Let  me  most  sincerely  beg  an 
interest  in  your  prayers,  and  in  the  prayers  of  all  the  brethren 
in  Princeton." 

His  subsequent  letters  to  various  friends  daring  his 
progress  by  land  from  Detroit,  through  Ohio,  and  a 
part  of  Kentucky  to  Louisville,  and  thence  by  steam- 
boat to  New-Orleans,  exhibit  lively  sketches  of  the 
scenery,  villages,  and  population  through  which  he 
passed,  interspersed  with  touches  of  humor  and  ex- 
pressions of  affection,  chastened  now  and  then  by  those 
solemn  thoughts  ever  presiding  over  the  rich  imagin- 
ings, the  profound  resources,  the  incessant  and  widely 
extending  operations  of  his  mind.  Under  date  of  the 
22nd  of  November,  he  gave  to  his  sister  what  he 
termed  "  a  kind  of  iogf-book  of  his  adventures." 

In  a  letter  of  this  date,  he  describes  very  particularly 
the  Indian  mounds  at  Circleville,  Ohio.  After  stating 
that  the  area  of  the  circle  of  one  of  these  ancient  forti- 
fications (if  such  they  may  be  called)  is  19|  acres,  and 
of  the  square  27|,  he  adds  : 

"You  may  judge  of  the  magnitude  of  these  vast  embank- 
ments when  I  tell  you  that  it  took  the  Corporation  of  Circle- 
ville 200  days  to  dig  one  about  half  down,  so  that  a  road 
might  pass  through.  But  when  I  add,  that  the  timber  on 
the  top  of  these  embankments  is  as  large  as  any  in  the  sur- 


62  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

rounding  country — that  there  are  trees  on  them  measuring 
nine  and  ten  feet  round,  what  idea  can  you  form  of  their 
antiquity  ?" 

Having  mentioned  that  his  brother  and  some  other 
friends  had  accompanied  him  to  the  river  Raisin,  and 
(having  left  them,)  that  two  days  after  he  arrived  at 
Fort  Meigs,  or  the  Rapids  of  Miami,  he  writes, 

"Here  I  met  with  W.,  and  J.  H.,  and  H.  C,  all  of  whom 
your  husband  knows.  Once  more  we  resumed  our  journey, 
and  in  company  with  the  mail  carrier  encountered  the  Black 
Swamp,  a  business  which  took  us  two  days  in  going  36  miles. 
Of  all  dreadful  roads  this  is  the  worst.  We  were  obliged 
to  take  a  compass  to  direct  us.  Not  even  a  horse-shoe  track 
could  be  discovered.  It  was  literally  horrible.  Our  horses 
were  most  of  the  time  up  to  their  middle  in  water,  and  all 
the  time  plunging,  diving,  and  rearing  in  the  most  frightful 
manner.  By  the  mercy  of  a  protecting  Providence,  we 
were  preserved,  and  on  Friday  evening  we  were  at  Lower 
Sandusky.  On  the  following  day  we  started  again  with  the 
mail  carrier,  although  my  horse  was  considerably  lame. 
That  night  we  arrived  at  the  only  house  on  the  road,  turned 
our  horses  into  the  woods,  and  laid  down  before  the  fire, 
with  a  blanket  for  our  beds  and  our  saddles  for  pillows,  and 
slept  very  well.  The  next  day  we  started  again,  and  for 
the  first  time  in  my  life  I  travelled  on  the  Sabbath.  There 
was,  however,  no  alternative*  By  night  we  reached  an 
Indian's  house,  where  my  horse  was  too  lame  to  proceed. 
By  engaging  to  carry  the  mail,  I  procured  my  companion's 
horse,  and  set  out  alone  for  Delaware.  Towards  night  I 
got  lost  in  the  woods,  and  to  add  to  my  distress,  a  wolf 
passed  close  by  me.  Providentially  I  recovered  the  road, 
and  the  next  day  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  Delaware. 

*  There  was  no  house  for  about  seventy  miles, 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  53 

Here  Gol.  B 's  family  treated  me  with  great  kindness, 

sent  back  for  my  horse,  and  furnished  me  with  another  to 
proceed  on  my  journey. 

"To-morrow  I  expect  to  preach,  and  the  next  day  to  start 

for  Lexington.     Although  convinced,  my  dear  J ,  that  I 

am  in  the  path  of  duty,  I  cannot  but  look  back  sometimes 
with  a  sigh  to  the  happy  hours  I  have  spent  with  you  at 
Washington.  If  it  be  the  will  of  Providence,  I  hope  once 
more  to  meet  you  hereafter  and  renew  our  affection.  But 
whatever  may  be  in  store  for  me,  I  shall  always  love  you  with 
unabated  ardor,  and  as  the  highest  proof  of  it,  shall  always 
pray  that  you  may  become  truly  pious.  Oh,  my  dearest 
sister,  be  persuaded  to  relinquish  this  poor  and  perishing 
world,  and  secure  an  interest  in  the  Redeemer." 

To  his  brother,  from  Shelbyville,  (Kentucky.)  on 
the  12th  of  December  he  wrote  : 

"  After  a  tedious  journey  through  Ohio,  I  reached  the  river 
of  that  name  about  17  days  since.  Here  of  course  I  struck 
Kentucky.  It  is  a  fine  state  :  that  is,  the  fertility  of  the 
soil  and  the  means  of  getting  rich  are  great.  On  the  2d  of 
December  I  reached  Lexington,  where  to  my  great  joy  I 
overtook  my  missionary  companion,  Mr.  Chamberlain.  Of 
this  gentleman  I  have  already  given  you  my  high  opinion, 
and  you  can  easily  judge  with  what  enthusiastic  joy  I  wel- 
come him  as  the  partner  of  my  sufferings  and  of  my  objects. 
In  Lexington,  I  staid  with  Mr.  M'Chord,  the  pastor  of  the 
Presbyterian  Church.  He  is  of  the  very  first  of  men.  From 
Lexington  I  came  yesterday  to  Frankfort,  where  the  Legis- 
lature of  Kentucky  is  in  session.  I  witnessed  several  dis- 
plays, and  was  pleased.  I  also  preached  in  that  place.  To- 
day I  have  travelled  to  the  little  village  from  which  I  date 
my  letter;  to-morrowlresume  my  journey  towards  Louisville, 
when  I  expect  to  take  the  steam-boat  for  New-Orleans. 


64  LIFE    OP   LARNED. 

*'  As  I  advance  nearer  and  nearer  to  the  theatre  of  my 
expected  labors,  I  feel  more  sensibly  my  responsibility.  O, 
that  my  heart  may  be  less  attached  to  this  world,  and  more 
to  the  great  source  of  happiness.  My  dear  brother  and  sis- 
ter, I  am  arrived  at  that  period  when  my  life  is  rendered 
peculiarly  uncertain.  Pray  receive  it  as  my  most  earnest 
and  affectionate  admonition,  be  religious.  And  especially 
to  you,  my  dearest  J — ,  let  me  present  the  Gospel  and  the 
Cross  of  Christ  as  the  balm  of  the  afflictions  you  have  suf- 
fered,  and  as  the  only  safe  refuge  of  your  soul.  May  the 
God  of  Israel  be  with  you  both.  Love  to  all  friends,  and 
write  to  father  that  you  have  heard  from  me." 

In  1818,  a  voyage  from  Louisville  to  New-Orleans 
was  very  different  from  that  at  present.  In  one  of  se- 
veral letters,  addressed  by  Mr.  Larned  to  his  friends 
from  on  board  the  barque  Newport,  as  she  descended 
the  Mississippi,  he  remarks  : 

"  We  have  already  been  three  weeks  on  our  passage,  and 
probably  another  will  elapse  before  we  reach  Natchez,  when 
these  lines  will  commence  their  journey  to  Princeton." 

Few,  if  any,  perhaps,  twenty-six  years  ago,  in  the 
early  achievements  of  steam  navigation,  anticipated  the 
wonderful  improvements  to  which  it  was  destined,  nor 
was  it  easy  to  imagine  amid  the  dangerous  obstruc- 
tions prevalent  then  in  the  western  rivers,  that  they 
would  soon  be  removed,  and  free,  safe  and  rapid  inter- 
course be  opened  between  all  points  of  the  great  valley 
through  which  they  flow. 

The  impressions  made  upon  the  mind  of  Larned  dur- 
ing this  his  first  descent  to  New-Orleans,  it  may  gra- 
tify an  innocent  curiosity  to  observe.  Having  pro- 
nounced the  accommodation  on  board  good,  and  the 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  55 

company  agreeable,  and  mentioned  the  names  of  the 
several  ladies  who  constituted  the  latter,  he  remarks : 

**  Mr.  Chamberlain  is  the  only  passenger  besides  myself, 
with  the  exception  of  the  ladies  just  mentioned.  We  have 
prayers  morning  and  evening  in  the  cabin,  besides  which, 
the  captain  permits  us,  every  night,  to  have  such  religious 
exercises  as  we  choose  with  the  crew,  who  are  not  unfre- 
quently  joined  by  the  crews  of  other  boats,  which  chance  to 
land  at  the  same  place  with  us  over-night ;  for  you  must 
know  that  it  is  extremely  hazardous  to  navigate  the  Missis- 
sippi after  dark,  on  account  of  the  prodigious  number  of 
sawyers  or  planters  which  abound  in  this  crooked,  irregular, 
and  unstable  river.  The  sawyers,  to  which  I  have  alluded, 
are  large  trees  which  high  water  has  dislodged  from  their 
banks,  and  after  floating  for  a  considerable  distance  down 
the  current,  their  roots  have  become  fixed  in  the  bed  of  the 
stream,  while  the  tops  and  trunks  are  elevated  sufficiently 
high  to  form  in  themselves  a  most  vexatious  impediment  to 
navigators,  and  also  to  create  an  eddy,  into  which  it  is  highly 
dangerous  to  be  drawn.  And  while  I  am  on  this  subject,  I 
would  add  that  there  are  other  considerations  which  consti- 
tute a  serious  drawback  on  the  commercial  advantages  of 
the  western  waters,  and  on  the  prospects  of  that  extensive 
country  through  which  they  pass." 

He  then  enumerates  the  overflowing  at  high  water 
of  both  sides  of  the  Mississippi,  the  changes  in  the 
whole  bed  of  the  river,  and  earthquakes,  and  adds, 

"  These  are  very  common,  and  very  destructive.  I  my- 
self have  felt  two  since  I  have  been  in  this  quarter.  At 
New- Madrid,  in  Missouri  Territory,  we  landed  to  see  the 
desolations  of  one  of  these  terrible  convulsions  of  Nature, 
and  the  appearance  of  the  whole  place  was  such  as  to  aflford 
an  awful  gratification  to  our  curiosity.     I  have  an  idea, 


66  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

which  I  have  never  seen  suggested  elsewhere,  and  perhaps 
is  unsound,  that  the  changes  in  the  channel  of  the  Missis- 
sippi are  owing  not  to  any  peculiarity  in  the  nature  or  course 
of  the  river,  but  principally  to  these  earthquakes,  or  rather 
to  that  combination  of  causes  by  which  earthquakes  are  com- 
monly supposed  to  be  produced." 

Among  the  intimate  friends  of  Larned  while  at 
Princeton,  were  William  Nevins,  afterwards  the  Rev. 
Dr.  Nevins,  pastor  of  the  Presbyterian  church  in  Bal- 
timore, eminent  as  a  preacher  and  author,  Charles  P. 
M'llvaine,  (the  present  Right  Rev.  Bishop  of  Ohio,) 
Reuben  Post,  (subsequently  of  Washington  City,  and 
now  pastor  of  a  Presbyterian  church  in  Charleston,) 
J.  Chamberlain,  (at  this  time  Dr.  Chamberlain,  Pre- 
sident of  Oakland  College,  Mississippi,)  Remembrance 
Chamberlain,  (now  Pastor  of  a  church  in  Georgia,) 
and  several  others  in  that  state,  occasionally  on  the 
list  of  his  correspondents.  To  these  friends,  as  to 
his  near  relatives,  his  heart  was  open  as  day,  and  his 
letters  express  a  frankness  and  tenderness  beyond 
the  reach  of  art.  His  lofty  talents,  set  off  by  an 
unsurpassed  charm  of  manner,  and  the  finest  pow- 
ers of  conversation,  gave  him  influence  over  every 
society  he  entered,  and  bound  to  him  his  asso- 
ciates with  unmeasured  strength  of  affection.  Several 
of  those  who  still  remained  at  Princeton  were  his  juniors 
in  age  and  in  the  seminary,  and  therefore  the  more  na- 
turally watched  with  intense  interest  his  bold  and  bril- 
liant course.  Nor  can  we  estimate  the  degree  to  which 
their  own  purposes  were  elevated  by  the  power  of  his 
example.  He  had  been  the  delightful  object  on  which 
their  love  and  admiration  centred,  nor  could  they  cease 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  57 

after  his  departure,  in  every  social  hour,  to  trace  his 
progress,  remember  his  looks  and  words,  regret  his  ab- 
sence, and  invoke  upon  him  every  blessing  of  Heaven. 
The  following  extract  from  one  of  the  letters  of  Nevins 
is  a  choice  tribute  to  friendship,  that  knew  no  change 
or  interruption  until  death  : 

"Philadelphia,  Nov.  3d,  1818. 
"  My  Dearest  Larned, — I«houId  not  have  so  long  neglected 
to  write  to  you,  if  I  had  not  been  so  deeply  engaged  in  the 
prosecution  of  my  Spanish  studies,  as  to  find  little  time  for 
any  thing  else.  Now  that  I  find  myself  a  little  disengaged, 
I  think  I  cannot  relieve  my  mind  more  effectually  than  by 
transmittting  a  few  dull  thoughts  to  you.  I  am  sure  you 
will  accept  of  them  if  they  bear  the  impress  of  friendship, 
although  they  may  carry  with  them  none  of  the  marks  of 
originality.  Love,  or  rather  impassioned  lovers  of  other 
times,  have  so  richly  partaken  of  the  blessing  of  invention, 
and  so  many  scouts  have  been  despatched  to  ransack  the 
stores  of  the  imagination  for  terms  of  affection,  that  I  shall 
be  contented  to  record  my  love  in  the  old-fashioned  but  not 
less  expressive  language  of  soberness.  Your  departure  shed 
a  temporary  gloom  over  my  thoughts,  which  time,  and  com- 
pany, and  business  have  been  able  in  a  measure  to  dissipate, 
but  not  before  I  had  succeeded  in  distinguishing  amid  its 
darkness  those  few  little  spots  which  hope  had  not  yet  ceased 
to  occupy,  and  not  till  my  thoughts  had  taken  another  color- 
ing from  a  little  mixture  of  heavenly  faith,  which  comes  with 
power  to  banish  all  that  unpleasantness  which  usually  suc- 
ceeds the  separation  of  those  we  love.  I  do  not  know  when 
I  shall  see  you,  my  dear  Larned.  Providence  may  not  often 
bring  us  together  in  this  world,  but  we  can  rejoice  in  the 
prospect  of  a  meeting  depending  not  on  the  uncertainties  of 
human  life,  but  the  immutable  declaration  of  God  himself. 


58  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

The  paths  of  the  pious  all  point  the  same  way,  and  are  al- 
ways converging  to  the  same  heaven,  and  although  we  can- 
not always  perform  our  journey  in  company,  there  should 
be  a  consolation  in  the  reflection  that  we  are  continually 
approximating  each  other — or,  as  you  know  I  delight  in 
figures,  to  change  from  land  to  sea,  and  take  up  the  figure 
where  I  left  it,  it  will  be  an  additional  source  of  consolation 
that  we  may  sometimes  meet  on  our  ocean  and  hail  each 
other,  when,  if  we  can  but  say  *  All's  well,'  even  that  will 
be  comfortable.  But  where  am  I  going?  After  all,  your 
absence  did  not  create  half  so  lasting  a  gloom  in  my  mind 

as  in .     When  evening  came,  I  believe  he  would 

have  given  his  piano,  however  much  he  values  it,  for  one 
short  hour  with  you.  He  says  he  loves  you  better  than  any 
man  in  the  world,  and  you  have  already  learned  so  much  of 
his  character  as  to  know  that  his  words  generally  come  out 
very  deeply  charged  with  candor  and  sincerity." 

Nor  can  I  deny  myself  the  pleasure  of  inserting  the 
following  sentences  from  the  letter  of  one  who,  though 
now  a  prelate,  illustrious  for  personal  character  and  his 
influence  in  the  Church,  will,  I  trust,  excuse  the  liber- 
ty I  take,  and  peruse  without  regret  the  cherished  sen- 
timents of  his  youthful  days,  alike  honorable  to  his 
piety,  his  friendship,  and  his  regard  to  a  Christianity 
limited  by  no  forms  of  worship  or  ecclesiastical  organi- 
zation.   The  letter  bears  date  Oct.  24th,  1817. 

"  It  makes  me  rather  melancholy  when  I  go  into  your  old 
room,  and  look  about  at  various  articles  that  recall  the  scenes 
of  former  days.  Such  absence  of  care,  such  leisure  for  en- 
joyment,  perhaps  such  a  meeting,  will  never  again  be  ours. 
How  often  I  think  of  you  wandering  lonely  in  the  northern 
and  western  wilds,  friends  and  attachments  far  away,  only 
cheered  and  supported  by  the  smiles  and  the  care  of  our  be- 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  59 

loved  Master.  But  what  else  is  necessary?  What  else  is 
able  to  light  the  path  of  the  pilgrim  of  Zion  ?  O,  that  you 
may  have  this  sweet  consolation,  and  be  able  to  mount  supe- 
rior to  every  trial,  every  affliction,  and  every  danger.  Should 
we  both  faithfully  do  the  will  of  our  heavenly  Father,  though 
it  be  in  bending  to  the  stroke  of  an  afflicting  Providence, 
or  in  placing  our  bodies  on  the  ramparts  of  persecuted  truth, 
with  what  holy  joy  and  exulting  triumph  shall  we  embrace 
in  the  world  above  !  May  we  both  put  on  the  whole  armor 
of  God ! 

"  I  have  often  thought  of  the  joy  it  would  occasion  me 
to  meet  you,  some,  day,  in  one  of  the  western  States,  unex- 
pectedly. It  seems  almost  worth  while  to  go  on  purpose, 
but  it  may  never  be  that  we  meet  in  any  place.  But  such 
are  the  sacrifices  that  dl  must  make,  that  would  preach  the 
Gospel ;  their  comfort  is  the  anticipation  of  that  world  where 
friends  shall  never  part.  I  remember  you  in  my  prayers, 
though  they  are  so  unworthy ;  let  me  have  a  place  in 
yours.  Let  us  correspond  as  long  as  friendship  lasts,  for 
besides  personal  gratification,  the  intimacy  may  one  day  be 
productive  of  good  to  our  respective  churches,  and  to  our 
common  religion.  Infinitely  better  would  it  be  to  religion, 
were  all  the  members  of  the  invisible  Church  joined  in  the 
bonds  of  friendship  and  intimacy  with  some  of  each  deno- 
mination." 

At  Natchez,  Mr.  Larned  received  intelligence  through 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Post,  of  the  death  of  his  father.  He 
had  left  him  in  a  reduced  state  of  health,  yet,  as  is  usual 
in  such  cases,  was  little  prepared  for  the  sad  event  of 
his  departure.  "  You  conjecture,"  said  he  in  reply  to 
Mr.  Post,  "  rightly  as  to  my  feelings,  but  I  hope  the 
bereavement  has  been  sanctified."  He  also  alludes  to 
his  increased  lo  e  of  retirement  and  worship,  ard  adds, 


60  LIFE    OF    EARNED. 

that  "never  before  had  the  world  seemed  so  trifling,  or 
eternity  so  important." 
To  Mr.  Nevins  he  wrote  : 

*'  Post's  letter  has  this  moment  announced  to  me  the 
death  of  my  father.  O,  my  dearest  friend,  this  is  a  dread- 
ful stroke.  He  was  one  of  the  best  of  parents.  My  heart 
almost  breaks  within  me  when  I  reflect  that  he  is  gone. 
But  I  shall  see  him  again.  How  peculiarly  precious  to  the 
mourner  is  the  Gospel.  It  tells  me  my  father  will  rise 
again." 

To  several  of  his  relatives  he  wrote  under  the  im- 
pressions caused  by  this  event,  urging  the  necessity  of 
an  interest  in  the  love  of  God,  for  happiness  in  this 
world  and  preparation  for  the  retributions  of  that  which 
is  to  come. 

On  the  22nd  January,  1818,  after  a  passage  of  thirty- 
five  days  from  Kentucky,  he  reached  New-Orleans, 
and  was  received  (to  use  his  own  words)  by  many 
with  open  arms. 

"I  found,"  he  observes,  under  date  of  the  17th  of 
February,  "  a  dear  and  most  excellent  brother,  Mr.  Corne- 
lius, who  had  arrived  three  weeks  earlier  than  myself.  He 
had  done  much  to  open  my  way,  and  with  that  avowed  de- 
sign, and  that  alone.  I  immediately  began  to  preach ;  and 
have,  on  different  occasions,  delivered  eight  or  ten  sermons. 
The  audiences  are  large  and  attentive.  The  field  for  use- 
fulness is  really  immense.  Amidst  34,000  people,  I  found 
but  one  Protestant  church — Episcopal.  After  preaching  here 
for  three  Sabbaths,  several  Americans  conceived  the  project 
of  retaining  me  in  the  city.  Without  entering  into  detail, 
suffice  it  to  say,  that  a  donation,  amounting  to  $12000,  has 
already  been  collected,  and  the  above  gentlemen  assure  me 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  61 

it  will,  at  the  lowest  estimate,  rise  to  $15,000,  As  soon  as 
the  subscriptions  are  returned,  a  loan  will  be  effected,  (to 
be  redeemed  by  subsequent  sale  of  pews,)  sufficient  to  com- 
plete the  sum  of  $40,000,  when  a  church  will  be  erected 
without  delay.  It  is  contemplated  to  make  the  church  of 
brick,  from  Philadelphia ;  dimensions  about  ninety  feet  by 
sixty,  to  comprise  a  bell,  a  clock,  and  perhaps  an  organ. 
The  subscribers,  and  others  friendly  to  the  object,  have 
given  me  an  invitation  to  become  their  pastor,  which  I  have 
accepted.  The  compensation  will  probably  be  $4000  per 
annum,  or  $3000,  with  a  house  and  garden,  as  the  rent  of 
b  lildings  is  excessively  high.  The  building  is  to  contain 
two  thousand  one  hundred  to  two  thousand  two  hundred 
persons  seated.  Possibly  the  general  plan  of  Dr.  Mason's 
will  be  the  model,  except  that  a  church  in  this  climite  will 
need  two  additional  doors  in  the  side.  They  think  of  send- 
ing me  to  Philadelphia  for  an  architect,  and  to  make  the 
building  an  honor  and  an  ornament  to  the  city.  After  a 
fortnight  things  will  assume  a  more  decided  shape.  One 
thing  I  believe  most  unequivocally — that  the  want  of 
money  will  be  one  of  the  least  difficulties.  I  had  forgotten 
to  say  that  a  committee  has  been  appointed  to  purchase  a 
central  lot  in  the  city,  capable  of  containing  a  church,  ses- 
sion-house, and,  if  hereafter  practicable,  an  academy.  The 
climate  of  New-Orleans,  in  the  winter,  is  surpassed  in 
healthfulness  by  none  in  Ameri  ;a.  From  November  to 
July,  a  man  of  temperate  habits  is  perfectly  safe — I  mean 
from  any  peculiarities  of  climate.  The  moral  state  of 
things  is  indeed  terrible,  but  not  so  bad  as  is  thought  in  the 
northern  States.  There  is  a  very  agreeable  society  of  gen- 
teel moral  families  ;  there  are  many  of  the  dear  children  of 
God, — how  many,  I  have  at  present  no  means  of  ascertain- 
ins." 


62  LIFE    OP   LARNEI>. 

Those  who  knew  the  Rev.  Dr.  Cornelius,  or  who 
have  perused  his  Memoir  by  the  Rev.  B.  B.  Edwards, 
may  imagine  how  his  spirit  was  stirred  within  him 
during  his  visit  to  New-Orleans,  and  the  zeal  and  vigor 
with  which  he  preached,  not  merely  to  the  wealthy 
and  educated,  but  in  prisons  and  alms-houses,  to  sea- 
men and  slaves,  and  to  all  classes  of  the  population. 
"  The  various  scenes,"  ( observes  his  biographer,) 
"  through  which  he  passed,  were  of  the  most  affecting 
kind,  and  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  hopefully 
the  instrument  of  much  good  both  to  the  bodies  and 
souls  of  his  fellow-men."  The  friendship,  which  had 
already  commenced  between  this  gentleman  and  Mr. 
Larned,  was  too  pure  and  exalted  to  admit  the  least 
particle  of  envy  or  jealousy  into  the  bosom  of  either, 
and  continued  without  intermission  and  with  accumu- 
lating power  and  tenderness,  until  its  offices  were  sus- 
pended by  death.  Like  David  and  Jonathan,  they 
were  lovely  and  pleasant  in  their  lives,  and  now  doubt- 
less realize  the  bliss  of  a  higher  existence,  eternally 
re-united  to  each  other  and  their  common  Lord,  in  the 
glorious  and  everlasting  kingdom,  to  which,  with  holy 
ambition,  they  aspired. 

Of  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Larned,  January  22,  Mr.  Cor- 
nelius thus  wrote : 

"  This  morning  I  had  the  unspeakable  satisfaction  of  greet- 
ing Mr.  Larned,  who  has  long  been  expected  in  this  city,  as 
one  of  its  permanent  laborers.  The  people  were  anxiously 
waiting.  From  the  reports  they  had  received  of  that  excel- 
lent young  man,  their  expectations  were  very  high ;  and, 
although  I  had  never  witnessed  his  public  performances,  I 
could  not  doubt  the  correctness  of  the  opinion  which  has 


LIFE    OP   LARNED.  63 

already  been  extensively  formed  of  him.  Though  much 
fatigued,  he  consented  to  preach  the  lecture  this  evening. 
Bless  the  Lord,  oh  my  soul,  for  condescending  to  grant  to 
his  Church  so  rich  a  blessing  as  she  enjoys  in  this  v/onder- 
ful  young  man.  The  congregation  was  large  and  respec- 
table ;  and  notwithstanding  their  expectations  were  very 
high,  they  were  far  transcended.  One  single  burst  of  ap- 
probation told  at  once  the  reception  they  gave  to  this  new 
messenger.  I  rejoice  that,  in  regard  to  correctness  of  sen- 
timent, and  elevation  of  piety,  as  well  as  the  inimitable 
manner  in  which  it  was  delivered,  the  discourse  was  such 
as  every  Calvinist,  and  every  real  Christian,  must  unhesi- 
tatingly approve.  His  text  was,  '  For  the  preaching  of 
the  Cross  is  to  them  that  perish  foolishness,  but  unto  us 
which  are  saved,  it  is  the  power  of  God.'  There  can  be 
no  doubt  but  that  the  people  of  this  city  will  gladly  exert 
themselves  to  settle  Mr.  Larned.  I  felt  great  pleasure  in 
introducing  him  to  a  large  circle  of  worthy  and  respectable 
citizens,  who  were  present.  Though  I  am  unable  to  con- 
tinue permanently  in  this  place,  yet  I  trust  my  having  ar- 
rived several  weeks  previously  to  Mr.  Larned,  has  been  of 
one  advantage,  if  no  other,  that  of  preparing  the  way  for 
his  regular  labors." 

Mr.  Cornelius  left  New-Orleans,  on  his  return  to 
New-England,  on  the  second  of  April,  1818.  He  had 
won  the  esteem  of  all  classes,  and  the  gratitude  of  the 
afflicted,  the  orphan,  the  sick,  and  the  imprisoned, 
who  had  been  relieved  or  comforted  by  his  minis- 
trations, followed  him.  On  the  morning  of  his  depar- 
ture Mr.  Larned  tendered  to  him,  in  the  name  of  him- 
self and  a  few  other  individuals,  a  gold  watch,  as  an 
evidence  that  his  services  were  appreciated,  and  that 


64  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

his  mission  of  piety  and  mercy  would  never  be  for- 
gotten.* 

The  theatre  upon  which  Mr.  Larned  had  now  en- 
tered was  favorable  to  the  full  developement  of  his 
high  character.  He  was  in  the  dawn  of  his  manhood,  in 
fine  healthj  amidst  a  people  warm-hearted,  honorable, 
and  generous,  ardent,  as  their  own  sunny  clime,  quick 
to  recognize  and  appreciate  genius  and  eloquence,  and 
to  extend  to  its  possessor  the  most  delicate  attentions 
and  liberal  support.  He  felt  himself  sustained  also  by 
a  strong  sense  of  duty,  of  the  dignity  of  his  profession, 

*  The  following  notes  were  exchanged  on  this  occasion : 

"  New-Orleans,  2nd  April,  1818. 
"Rev.  E.Cornelius: 

*'  My  dear  Christian  brother  and  friend, — From  a  few  individuals  of 
my  congregation,  associated  with  myself,  be  good  enough  to  accept  the 
accompanying  watch — not  as  a  compensation  for  your  arduous  labors 
and  extensive  usefulness  in  this  city,  but  an  indication  of  the  warm  re- 
collections of  yourself  and  your  services,  which  you  will  leave  behind, 
on  your  departure.  May  the  God  of  peace  and  consolation  bless  you, 
and  make  you  a  shining  ornament  in  His  church, 

"  Most  sincerely  and  affectionately,  I  remain  your  friend  and  brother  in 
Christ,  Sylvester  Larned." 

[Rephj.] 

"  New-Orleans,  April  2,  1818. 
"  Rev.  Sylvester  Larned: 

"  My  very  dear  brother, — With  the  highest  pleasure  I  acknowledge 
the  receipt  of  your  note  of  this  inst,,  with  the  accompanying  present  of 
a  gold  watch.  Suffer  me  to  say,  that  a  memorial  of  regard  so  valuable 
in  itself,  is  rendered  doubly  more  so  by  a  recollection  of  the  generous 
donors.  From  you,  my  dear  brother,  I  needed  no  higher  token  of  re- 
gard, than  you  have  a  hundred  times  before  given ;  and  while  I  ac- 
knowledge this  additional  evidence  of  your  affection,  I  must  beg  you  to 
express  to  the  donors  associated  with  yourself,  the  warm  sense  I  entertain 
of  their  gratitude  and  affection.  May  God  bless  you  and  the  dear 
people  of  your  charge  with  the  richest  of  his  bounties.  Such  will  ever 
be  the  prayer  of  your  brother,  E.  Cornelius." 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  65 

of  the  moral  grandeur  of  Christianity,  of  the  presence 
and  all-governing  providence  of  God.  But  the  culti- 
vation of  his  private  affections,  and  strict  regard  to  the 
claims  of  friendship,  were  a  part  of  his  religion,  and 
never  long  neglected  amidst  the  pressure  of  public  re- 
sponsibilities and  engagements.  Addressing  his  sister, 
April  8th,  1818,  he  thus  speaks  of  himself  and  the  great 
object  he  sought  and  expected  to  accomplish  : 

"  Left,  as  I  now  am,  alone,  in  the  discharge  of  the  severe 
and  arduous  duties  which  devolve  on  a  Christian  minister 
in  such  a  city  as  this,  you  will  easily  excuse  the  infre- 
quency  of  my  communications,  especially  when  you  are 
told  that  to  Martha,  Harriet  and  Sylvia,  I  write  equally 
often  with  your  own  dear  self,  and  no  oftener.  To  accom- 
plish the  erection  of  another  church  in  a  place  where  there 
is  very  little  religion,  is  a  task  of  prodigious  magnitude  ; 
and  I  sometimes  feel  compelled  to  sacrifice,  in  some  degree, 
the  regularity  of  my  correspondence  with  my  friends  to  the 
numerous  professional  calls  which  occupy  my  attention.     Of 

one  thing,  J ,  you  may  rest  assured, — that  wherever  I  go, 

under  whatever  climate  my  lot  may  be  cast,  or  to  whatever 
trials  that  lot  may  assign  me,  I  shall  never  cease  to  love 
you,  and  the  dear  husband  of  your  bosom,  with  unabated 
and  inextinguishable  affection.  The  climate  thus  far  has 
been  indeed  most  delightful  in  this  city.  During  the  month 
of  March  we  were  accustomed  to  those  little  rarities  of  the 
vegetable  world,  which,  in  the  eastern  states,  you  prize  so 
highly  even  at  a  much  later  period.  The  orange-trees  are 
in  charming  bloom — one  of  them  stands  loaded  with  fruit, 
just  before  my  window.  Along  the  coast  the  ride  is  truly 
enchanting — every  thing  is  in  bloom — all  Nature  dressed  in 
the  habiliments  of  gaiety,  and  the  infinite  variety  of  birds 
constantly  regaling  the  ear  with  their  melody.     As  to  the 


66  LIFE   OF   LARNED. 

church,  our  prospects  are  highly  flattering.  The  sum  of 
816,000  is  already  subscribed,  and  is  increasing  every  day, 
to  begin  the  edifice.  The  people  have  generously  allowed 
me  84000  per  annum,  as  a  regular  salary,  and  all  that  is 
comfortable  and  convenient  I  have  now  the  means  of  ob- 
taining. The  field  for  usefulness  in  New-Orleans  is  lite- 
rally boundless.  I  bless  God  for  having  directed  my  steps 
here.  As  to  the  climate,  except  during  the  prevalence  of 
the  yellow  fever,  the  amount  of  public  health  is  not  sur- 
passed in  any  American  city  whatever. 

"  Why,  if  merchants  will  come  here,  bring  their  families, 
and  live  for  years,  for  the  acquisition  of  wealth,  is  it  im- 
possible  for  the  herald  of  Jesus  Christ  to  encounter  the 
same  hazards,  where  his  object  is  one  of  so  much  superior 
importance  ?  Let  it  never  be  said, — let  a  minister  blush  who 
would  see  himself  outdone  in  activity  and  enterprise,  by  the 

men  of  the  world.  After  all,  J ,  it  is  of  little  consequence 

where  we  live,  so  we  but  cherish  a  hope  in  Christ,  and  be 
sure  of  an  everlasting  home  in  His  Kingdom.  Never  did  I 
feel  this  so  deeply  as  since  our  dear  father  has  left  us,  as  if 
to  warn  his  children  of  their  departure.  I  often  bear  you 
both,  and  all  my  other  friends,  to  the  throne  of  mercy,  and 
pray  that  you  may  be  prepared  for  your  last  great  change. 
How  trifling  and  transitory  is  this  world, — like  man,  *  it 
cometh  forth  like  a  flower,  and  is  cut  down, — it  vanisheth 
also  as  a  shadow,  and  where  is  it  V  Should  God  be  pleased 
to  further  my  plans,  I  shall  see  you  in  July." 

In  a  long  letter,  dated  the  25th  of  April,  addressed 
to  Dr.  Cornelius  at  Knoxville,  (Tennessee,)  he  details 
in  a  light  and  easy  style,  several  incidents  and  events 
which  had  occurred  among  his  acquaintances  and 
friends  : 

"  You  need  not  again  be  told  how  lonely  and  hermit-like  I 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  67" 

have  felt  since  the  2nd  of  the  month.  Depend  upon  it,  the 
assurances  which  you  so  liherally  avow  of  affection  and 
interest,  are  reciprocated  to  the  fingers^  ends.  But  I  am 
only  wasting  the  paper  in  telling  you  what  you  already 
know.  Col.  T.  came  in  yesterday's  boat,  from  N.  He  is 
apparently  a  pious  and  intelligent  man,  and,  by-the  by,  like 
a  good  many  others,  much  attached  to  a  certain  man,  to 
whom  I  used  to  give  the  name  of  the  'Centurion.'" 

In  reference  to  the  amount  raised  by  Dr.  Cornelius, 
at  Natchez,  for  the  cause  of  Missions,  he  observes  : 

"  One  thousand  six  hundred  and  twenty  dollars!  You 
astonish  me.  I  most  sincerely  rejoice  in  your  success, 
and  can  only  say,  you  bid  fair  to  get  the  name  of  the  irre- 
sistible. The  Church  project  goes  on  well ;  a  contract  is 
pending  with  the  incipient  architects,  and  the  foundation  is 
to  be  commenced  next  week  !  By  my  request,  tife  trustees 
have  furnished  me  with  a  power  of  attorney,  for  purchas- 
ing on  their  securit}^,  to  the  amount  of  $20,000,  and  I  am 
to  proceed  in  one  fortnight  to  New-York,  to  send  out  half  a 
million  of  brick  and  other  articles  immediately,  so  that  the 
edifice  may  be  sufficiently  advanced  in  January  next,  to 
warrant  a  sale  of  the  pews.  You  will  see  the  policy  of  this 
proceeding — '  to  strike  while  the  iron  is  hot'  is  a  good  rule, 
especially  in  this  case  ;  for  you  know  if  the  pews  are  not 
sold  the  next  winter,  they  will  not  sell  favorably  till  the  fol- 
lowing winter,  as  people  have  generally  very  little  of  the 
buying  humor,  in  any  thing,  during  the  warm  season." 

Alluding  to  intelligence  he  had  received,  that  a  call 
might  be  addressed  to  him  by  the  Presbyterian  Church 
in  Baltimore,  he  remarks  : 

"  Whatever  may  be  the  result,  you  may  rest  assured,  that 
were  I  offered  the  Bishopric  of  Creation,  I  would  not  at  this 
time  leave  New-Orleans." 


68  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

Speaking  of  an  esteemed  female  friend,  much  af- 
flicted and  in  feeble  health,  he  observes  : 

"  I  pray  God  she  may  recover.  Her  mind  is  tender  and 
solemn  on  the  subject  of  religion.  She  often  speaks  of  you, 
and  like  everybody  else  who  ever  knew  you,  remembers 
and  loves,  and  respects  you.  Were  I  a  Httle  more  jealous 
than  I  am,  I  might  find  in  myself  to  use  the  idea  of  Shak- 
speare,  that  green  and  grovelhng  worm  that  feeds  upon  it- 
self. But  I  confess,  if  I  am  doomed  to  no  other  suffering 
than  that  of  hearing  your  praises,  I  shall  be  a  very  happy 
man.  Now  what  else  have  I  to  say  ?  You  see  that  I  have 
had  the  vanity  to  take  a  second  start,  as  if  I  had  something 
of  interest  to  communicate.  Since  j^ou  left,  if  you  will  al- 
low me  to  speak  bluntly,  I  have  preached  some  good  ser- 
mons, and  some,  that,  as  the  old  woman  said,  were  extrornary 
ornary,^  The  church  in  the  afternoon  is  very  much  crowd- 
ed — so  much,  that  last  Sabbath  the  doors  and  windows 
were  filled  inside  and  outside.  O  my  dear  Cornelius,  I 
know  what  a  solemn  responsibility  is  upon  me,  and  I  pray 
God  to  enable  me  to  discharge  it.  Pray  for  me — 1  pray 
for  you,  and  surely  we  may  hold  communion  with  God,  if 
not  with  each  other.  May  the  Lord  Jesus  give  you  the 
very  richest  of  his  blessings,  both  here  and  for  ever.  Let 
me  hear  from  you  often — direct  to  New-York." 

On  the  19th  of  June,  1818,  he  was  once  more,  and 
on  his  last  visit,  at  Pittsfield,  Massachusetts,  amid  the 
conofratulations  and  endearments  of  home.     Mr.  Cor- 


*&' 


*  Mr.  Larned  very  seldom  alludes  to  himself  or  his  performances. 
His  great  popularity  appears  little  to  have  affected  him ;  and  nothing 
like  memoranda  or  a  diary,  of  his  public  duties,  or  more  private 
thoughts,  is  to  be  found  among  his  papers.  Modest  and  unostentatious, 
while  he  delighted  to  do  justice  to  the  merits  of  others,  he  was  ever  dis- 
posed to  conceal  his  own. 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  69 

neliiis  was  still  in  Tennessee.  Mr.  Larned  wrote  to 
him  at  Knoxville,  expressing-  joy  that  he  had  advanced 
so  far  on  his  journey,  and  at  the  prospect  of  soon  meet- 
ing him  in  New-England  : 

"  I  anticipate  !"  he  exclaims,  "  What  a  selfish  remark- 
thousands  anticipate.     It  really  does  my  soul  good  to  be 

asked  wherever  I  go,  about  Mr.  Cornelius.     Mr.  D told 

me  in  New-York  that  he  had  a  call  for  you  from  Middle- 
town,  Connecticut.  I  sometimes  almost  regret  that  I  am 
not  a  layman,  so  as  to  sit  under  your  preaching." 

To  the  same,  on  the  16th  of  August,  from  the  same 
place,  he  wrote  :  I 

*'  I  unfortunately  missed  seeing  you  on  the  morning 
which  saw  me  leaving  New-York.  Among  many  other  re- 
grets which  this  disappointment  occasioned  me,  it  was  by 
DO  means  the  least  that  we  should  not  have  entered  into  a 
mutual  arrangement  for  our  future  correspondence." 

He  then  mentions  his  visit  to  New-Haven  and  Litch- 
field, and  relates  an  anecdote  of  his  interview  with  a 
venerable  and  somewhat  eccentric  man,  Mr.  C,  in  the 
latter  town,  who  was  ignorant  of  his  characrer,  and 
with  whom  he  dined. 

"  Among  other  topics,"  he  observes,  "  of  discussion,  Mr. 
Cornelius  came  on  the  carpet,  and  the  following  conversa- 
tion ensued  : 

*'  C. — You  say  you  are  from  New-Orleans.  Did  you 
ever  know  a  Mr.  Cornelius,  a  missionary  there  ?  And  what 
do  you  think  of  him  ? 

"Zf. — I  have  known  him.  I  think  he  is  a  fine  man,  but 
he  preaches  pretty  hard  doctrine. 

"  C. — Just  right,  I  presume.  I  know  him  ;  he  is  the 
4* 


70  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

flower  of  this  part  of  the  country.  He  is  a  revival  minis- 
ter. 

"  L. — But,  sir,  do  you  believe  in  revivals  ? 

"  C — Yes,  as  much  as  I  do  in  a  God.     Don't  you  ? 

"  L, — Why,  I  never  was  in  one,  but  am  apt  to  think 
there  is  a  good  deal  of  enthusiasm  attending  them  gene- 
rally. 

«'  C, — Well,  sir,  let  me  tell  you  they  are  a  blessed  thing, 
I  hope  you  are  not  beyond  the  reach  of  mercy ;  and  I  do 
hope  that  when  you  next  hear  of  a  revival,  you  will  go  to 
it,  and  that  the  Spirit  may  awaken  you  and  pardon  your 
sins. 

"  I  thanked  him  for  his  good  advice  and  left  him.'* 

So  diligently  and  resolutely  was  Mr.  Larned  engaged 
in  completing  the  arrangements  and  purchases  for 
his  church,  and  so  intent  on  arriving  in  New-Orleans 
before  the  drafts  issued  by  him  on  his  trustees  should 
become  due,  that  he  denied  himself  the  pleasure  of  at- 
tending, at  Andover,  the  wedding  of  his  friend  Mr. 
Cornelius,  to  which  he  was  earnestly  invited.  To  the 
lady  interested,  he  apologised  by  a  note  written  in  that 
style  of  courtesy  which  ever  adorned  all  his  actions  in 
social  life,  and  which,  having  explained  the  reasons 
for  his  early  departure,  concluded  with  an  expression 
of  "  ardent  solicitude  for  her  present  and  eternal  hap- 
piness." 

He  arrived  in  New-Orleans  on  the  21st  of  Decem- 
ber, and  the  next  day  commenced  a  letter  to  Mr.  Cor- 
nelius in  the  following  words  : 

"  My  dear,  my  ever  dear  brother, — 
.  "  Whose  name  can  so  forcibly  or  so  properly  be  recalled 
to  my  mind  as  your  own,  standing  as  I  once  more  do  on 


LIFE   OP    LARNED.  71 

the  theatre  of  our  common  labors  during  the  past  year  ? 
Whose  name,  I  ought  rather  to  ask,  is  calculated,  so  empha« 
tically,  to  awaken  all  the  recollections  of  friendship,  all  the 
feelings  of  gratitude,  and  all  the  sympathies  of  Christian 
love  ?  But  think  not  that  in  my  poor  heart  alone  you  have 
found  a  remembrance — never  will  the  dear  people  of  my 
charge  forget  you — never  will  you  cease  to  be  beloved  and 
esteemed  in  New-Orleans." 

He  then  mentions  the  trying-  delay  he  had  experi- 
enced in  his  journey,  in  consequence  of  the  low  water 
in  the  western  rivers, — that,  with  about  thirty  others 
long  detained  in  Kentucky  like  himself,  he  had  char- 
tered a  boat,  and  with  extreme  difficulty  accomplished 
the  voyage  from  Louisville  in  twenty-three  days.  Cer- 
tain rumors,  circulated  during  his  absence,  to  his  dis- 
advantage, his  presence  at  once  dispersed.  His  con- 
tracts were  approved  ,  and  his  drafts  promptly  paid. 
The  City  Council  had  given  two  lots  to  the  church, 
worth  ^6000. 

The  enterprise  so  near  his  heart  was  moving  for- 
ward, and  all  difficulties  vanishing  away.  New-Or- 
leans was  thronged.  Sixty  thousand  persons  were 
supposed  to  be  then  in  the  city,  six  hundred  having 
arrived  the  preceding  week,  and  the  number  was  daily 
increasing.  "  Don't  be  so  happy  at  home,"  he  finally 
writes,  "as  to  forget  me.  Depend  on  it,  when  I  for- 
get you,  my  right  hand  will  forget  her  cunning,  though 
it  never  had  but  little." 

To  his  friend,  Mr.  Post,  he  stated,  in  a  letter  of  the 
23rd,  the  progress  of  his  enterprise,  and  congratulated 
him  on  the  success  which  he  was  informed  had  at- 
tended his  preaching.     Of  some  special  attention  to 


72  LIFE    OF   LARNED. 

religion  under  the  ministry  of  his  friend,    he  thus 
speaks : 

"  Surely  in  this,  if  in  any  thing,  you  have  reason  to  re- 
joice. It  is  a  precious  seal  to  your  ministry.  It  is  almost 
a  sensible  demonstration  that  the  Lord  has  called  you  into 
His  vineyard— that  you  have  not  run  without  being  sent. 
I  have  sometimes  thought  the  feelings  of  a  man  thus 
honored  and  distinguished  must  be  more  delightful  than  any 
this  side  of  heaven,  when,  to  the  triumph  of  seeing  immortal 
souls  rescued  from  their  captivity,  is  added  the  inexpressi- 
ble joy,  of  contributing  successfully,  himself,  to  their  emanci- 
pation. I  can  tell  you  no  such  animating  news  from  this 
region  of  death.  Externally,  every  thing  is  flourishing  and 
fair — but  not  a  single  look  like  a  general  revival  has  cheer- 
ed my  heart ;  and  yet,  if  I  know  that  heart,  I  strive  to 
preach  the  truth.  I  would  not  willingly  withhold,  or  abridge, 
or  embellish  it  for  any  conceivable  consideration.  Pray  for 
me,  pray  for  New-Orleans  !" 

Among  those  in  New- York,  who  had  become  great- 
ly interested  in  Mr.  Larned  personally,  as  well  as  in 
the  establishment  of  his  church,  and  to  whose  gene- 
rous aid  he  was  largely  indebted,  was  a  young  gentle- 
man since  distinguished  for  enterprise  and  success  in 
business,  and  for  contributions  to  objects  of  public  util- 
ity. It  may  be  inferred  from  the  correspondence 
before  us,  that,  in  his  own  judgment,  at  least,  he  was 
not  at  this  time  religious,  and  it  is  for  the  future  to  re- 
veal, how  far  the  suggestions  and  influence  of  Mr. 
Larned  contributed  to  form  his  character,  and  to  plant 
within  his  bosom  those  sentiments  of  piety  and  benefi- 
cence which  alone  can  light  up  the  last  hours  of  life 
with  immortal  hopes.     An  almost  intuitive  percep- 


LIFE    OF   LARNED.  73 

tion  of  the  dispositions  and  motives  of  men,  and  a 
delicate  and  universal  sympathy  with  the  varied  work- 
ings of  the  soul  at  the  different  seasons,  and  in  the 
various  conditions  of  our  being,  enabled  Mr.  Larned  to 
teach  and  guide,  kindly  and  effectually,  the  unsettled 
and  agitated  mind.  He  respected  and  loved  all  that 
was  amiable  and  generous  in  our  nature,  and  well 
knew  that  often  a  single  act  of  justice  towards  it,  is  better 
than  a  sermon,  a  hint  more  powerful  than  an  argu- 
ment,— that  an  encouraging  smile,  or  a  word  ntly 
spoken,  or  one  bright  deed  of  virtue,  works  almost 
magically  upon  cheerless  and  reluctant  hearts.  The 
following  extracts  from  his  letters  to  this  gentleman 
show  how  pertinently,  and  yet  with  what  dis- 
cretion, he  wrought  his  religious  sentiments  and 
instructions  into  a  correspondence  with  those  who 
might  cherish  no  heartfelt  attachment  to  religious 
truth.  Having  mentioned  his  delay  in  Kentucky,  and 
the  reports  which  had  been  circulated  to  his  discredit 
during  his  absence,  he  remarks,  under  dale  of  the  12th 
of  January : 

"Amidst  all  this  discouragement,  however,  it  gave  me 
great  pleasure  to  hear  that  my  friends  in  the  eastward, 
and  yourself  in  particular,  had  not  found  your  confidence 
abused.  The  first  question  which  escaped  my  lips  on  strik- 
ing the  Levee,  was,  whether  my  drafts  were  paid,  and  it  re- 
lieved me  from  anxiety,  at  the  same  time  it  stimulated  my 
efforts,  to  be  answered  in  the  affirmative.  You  recollect  the 
contract  on  my  part  stipulated  the  payment  of  87000  to 
— — —  on  his  arrival ;  not  one  dollar  of  the  same  did  I  find 
in  readiness.  I  immediately  assembled  my  trustees,  and 
held  a  '  council  of  war.*  With  the  exertions  we  made,  ac- 
companied by  the  Divine  blessing,  our  87000  were  raised 


74  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

and  our  fears  quieted.  You  may  smile  at  the  mention  of  a 
Divine  blessing.  Now  I  do  not  believe  in  that  kind  of  par- 
ticular Providence  which  supposes  an  interference  with  the 
machinery  of  events ;  but  I  do  most  firmly  believe  that 
God  causes  the  adjustments,  and  relations,  and  harmonies 
of  his  Providence  to  meet  at  certain  points,  for  certain  pur- 
poses ;  and  I  am  deliberately  convinced,  that  such  has  been 
the  fatft,  in  the  very  case,  in  allusion.  This  is  no  enthusi- 
asm. Everybody  admits  the  principle  on  a  great  scale. 
When  a  nation  is  delivered  or  destroyed, — when  an  em- 
pire is  preserved  or  laid  in  ruins, — no  man  objects  to  ac- 
knowledging the  finger  of  the  Deity.  Why  then,  let  me 
ask,  should  I  be  forbidden  the  same  reasoning  about  a 
church  in  New-Orleans  ?  But  I  will  talk  of  something  else. 
The  corner-stone  of  our  building  was  laid  on  the  memora- 
ble anniversary  of  the  8th  of  January.  The  ceremonies 
were  very  interesting — the  crowd  prodigious.  I  most  sin- 
cerely  pray  that  the  day  may  be  the  era  of  moral  renova- 
tion in  this  valley  of  spiritual  death." 

Doubtless  in  reference  to  some  remark  of  this  gen- 
tleman, he  adds : 

"  No,  ;  God  forbid  that  I  should  fill  up  any  blank 

with  the  words  *  lost  for  ever,'  where  your  name  is  at  the 
bottom.  I  know  not  that  I  shall  ever  see  you  more  in  this 
world,  but  this  I  know,  were  you  the  Infidel  of  80,  instead 
of  the  almost  Christian  of  .35,  I  should  not  surrender  the 
precious  hope  of  seeing  you  a  child  of  the  love  of  God.  If  I 
die  before  you,  (and  mark  my  words,  I  probably  shall,)  one 
of  the  last  prayers  that  will  breathe  from  my  lips  shall  be, 
that  you  may  be  saved.  Do  not  forget  to  write  me 
often." 

In  his  next,  of  the  6th  of  April,  he  says  : 

"I  cannot  avoid  saying,  once  for  all,  that  I  consider  you 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  75 

as  the  immediate  instrument  of  building  our  church.  To 
express  my  personal  acknowledgments  would  be  an  old  story ; 
for  the  rest,  let  me  say,  that  although  you  are  devoted  to 
making  money,  you  will  find,  when  you  come  to  die,  that  all 
you  can  call  your  own,  will  be,  just  what  you  have  done  to- 
wards advancing  the  kingdom  of  Christ.  I  can  recompense 
your  goodness — no,  not  so  much  that,  perhaps — but  your 
enlarged  and  liberal  views,  only  by  hoping  and  praying  that 
you  may  possess  that  religion  in  your  heart  and  for  eter- 
nity, which  you  have  been  made  the  means  in  this  case  of 
conspicuously  promoting.  Our  church,  of  which  you  inquire, 
is  almost  completed.  Lord  has  acted  the  gentleman  and  the 
architect  to  our  full  satisfaction.  I  do  not  believe  there  is 
a  handsomer  building  of  the  kind  in  the  United  States.  The 
project  has  met  opposition,  and  so  does,  and  ever  will,  any 
thing  signally  good.  But  opposition  has  been  silenced.  The 
City  Council  the  other  day  lent  us  $10,000  ;  and  all  our 
troubles,  so  far  as  we  can  see,  are  surmounted.  I  wish  you 
could  come  here  a  little  while  and  see  us.  Why  can't  you? 
In  the  fall,  it  will  be  a  pleasant  excursion  to  explore  the 
western  country,  and  terminate  your  tour  with  New-Orleans. 
If  there  is  a  living  soul  on  earth  I  would  rejoice  to  see,  it  is 

yourself.     R never  will  come  until  insurance  can  be 

effected  from  thunder  and  lightning,  of  which  we  have  a 

great  abundance,  and  of  a  swperior  kind  here.    *  *  *    S 

is  here,  and  I  see  him  all  the  time,  I  had  liked  to  have  said 
— he  is  what  we  Christians  call  a  precious  man.  Do  you 
wish  to  know  how  New -Orleans  is  coming  on  in  a  Chris- 
tian sense  1  I  think  much  solemnity  is  apparent.  Several 
deaths  have  recently  occurred,  and  I  hope  they  have  preached 
better  than  ever  I  did.  I  think  a  very  little  of  visiting  New- 
York  during  the  summer,  but  perhaps  I  shall  visit  eternity 
first.  And  why  should  I  dread  it  ?  I  want  to  have  it  de- 
cided what  is  coming  when  this  pitiful  world  ia  gone." 


76  LIFE   OF    LARNED. 

On  the  fourth  of  July  his  church  was  dedicated, 
and  he  preached  to  a  crowded  and  deeply  interested 
audience  with  emotions  of  delight  and  thanksgiving, 
and  in  his  most  impressive  manner.    In  allusion  to  his 
text,  he  observed,  "  I  trust  God  was  in  the  midst  of  his 
^mple."*     The  architecture  of  the  building  was  all  he 
could  desire  ;  pews  to  the  value  of  17  to  $18,000  were 
immediately  sold,  and  amidst  the  sympathies  and  cor- 
dialities of  an  affectionate  and  increasing  people,  and 
the  warm  expressions  of  confidence  and  respect  from 
the  citizens  generally  of  New-Orleans,  he  engaged  with 
all  the  animation  and  vigor  of  his  nature  in  the  dis- 
charge of  his  pastoral  duties.     Nor  were  his  views 
limited  to  these  duties.    In  the  character,  improvement, 
and  rising  institutions  of  the  city,  he  evinced  a  gener- 
ous concern.    Affliction  never  appealed  to  him  in  vain. 
When  the  circumstances  of  New-Orleans  at  that  time 
are  considered,  we  may  imagine  how  many  eyes  were 
turned   towards    him,    how   many  imploring    hands 
stretched  out  to  him  for  relief     The  widow,  the  or- 
phan, the  sick  and  friendless  seaman,  the  destitute 
stranger,  the  tenant  of  the  hospital,  the  prisoner  chain- 
ed in  his  dungeon,  and  the  murderer  under  sentence  of 
death,  all  found  in  him  a  friend.     He  was  economical 
of  time,  and  for  this  reason,  as  well  as  from  his  con- 
scious abilities  for  influence  in  society,  he  frequently 
invited  gentlemen  to  breakfast  or  dine  with  him,  with- 
out regard  to  the  peculiarities  of  their  religious  creeds. 
On  one  occasion,  at  least,  (probably  on  others,)  the 
whole  body  of  the  Catholic  clergy  of  the  city  partici- 

*  See  Sermon:  "  We  have  thought  of  thy  loving  kindness,  O  God,  in 
the  midst  of  thy  temple," 


LIFE    OF   LARNED.  77 

pated  in  the  hospitalities  of  his  table.  His  finely  sus- 
ceptible and  well-attempered  constitution  disposed  him 
to  partake  of  innocent  enjoyments,  and  all  his  feelings 
and  habits  to  delight  in  the  rational  gratification  of  his 
fellow-men  ;  and  while  his  presence  never  failed  to  en- 
liven the  social  hour,  and  to  open  the  sparkling  foun- 
tains of  joy  in  the  hearts  of  others,  a  discerning  eye 
might  detect  his  rulinor  motive,  and  that  he  was  ever 
mindful  of  the  dignity  and  responsibility  of  his  pro- 
fession. 

If  a  facetious  remark  of  Sir  Thomas  More,  when 
about  to  die  on  the  scaffold,  has  not  diminished  our 
veneration  for  his  piety,  because  a  vein  of  wit  run 
through  his  entire  nature,  it  may  be  pardoned  to  Ear- 
ned, that  in  the  buoyancy  of  youthful  health  and  spirits, 
his  playful  and  lively  fancy  broke  out  occasionally 
among  his  associates,  to  relieve  more  serious  thought, 
and  give  an  Attic  grace  and  brilliancy  to  conversation.* 
Deep  springs  of  fresh  and  joyous  humor  were  in  him, 

*  Had  Mr.  Larned  entered  the  legal  profession,  or  engaged  in  politi- 
cal life,  the  following  lines  of  Moore,  applied  to  Sheridan,  might  not 
less  truly  have  been  applied  to  him  : 

"  Whose  mind  was  an  essence  compounded  with  art, 
From  the  finest  and  best  of  other  men's  powers ; 
Who  ruled  like  a  wizard  the  world  of  the  heart, 
And  could  call  up  its  sunshine  or  draw  down  its  showers. 

"  Whose  humor,  as  gay  as  the  fire-fly's  light, 

Played  round  every  subject,  and  shone  as  it  played; 
Whose  wit  in  the  contest,  as  gentle  as  bright, 
Never  carried  a  heart-stain  away  on  its  blade. 

'*  Whose  eloquence  brightening  whatever  it  tried, 
Whether  reason  or  fancy,  the  gay  or  the  grave, 
Was  as  rapid,  as  deep,  and  as  brilliant  a  tide 
As  ever  bore  freedom  aloft  on  its  wave." 


78  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

and  needed,  like  his  eloquence,  but  occasion,  to  gush 
forth. 

It  has  been  evident  from  various  letters,  that  he  real- 
ised not  only  the  importance  but  peril  of  his  station, 
and  in  all  his  plans  and  calculations  felt  their  great  un- 
certainty, and  the  probability  of  an  early  death.  The 
fame  of  his  talents  and  eloquence  had  travelled  through 
the  Union,  and  invitation  after  invitation,  from  wealthy 
churches,  enforced  by  the  appeals  of  private  friendship, 
urged  his  retreat  from  the  exposures  of  his  position. 
But  he  was  above  selfishness,  and  a  stranger  to  fear. 
He  tenderly  reciprocated  the  affections  of  his  people ; 
he  appreciated  their  noble  exertions  ;  his  sense  of  honor, 
and  that  voice  to  him  more  powerful  and  persuasive 
than  all  beside,  ^'  Be  thou  faithful  unto  death,  and  I  will 
give  thee  a  crown  of  life,"  disposed  him  to  decline  every 
call,  and  stand  in  what  he  deemed  his  appointed  field 
of  service,  obedient,  and  prepared  for  every  event.  Of 
what  consequence  when  that  "great  night,"  in  which 
no  man  can  work,  and  which  must  involve  all,  should 
come  over  him,  provided  his  trimmed  and  burning  lamp 
showed  him  waiting  for  his  Lord,  prepared  to  render 
his  account,  and  to  enter  into  glory? 

In  several  notices  of  Mr.  Larned,  published  since  his 
death,  his  early  pulpit  eloquence  is  represented  as  the 
product  rather  of  imagination  and  passion  than  of  rea- 
son. Accordingly,  its  effect  is  described  as  more  agree- 
able than  useful ;  his  hearers  were  thrown  into  "  a  de- 
lirium of  feeling," — pleased,  perhaps,  with  their  own 
unsanctified  sensibilities,  admiring  the  preacher  and 
his  extraordinary  gifts,  enraptured  with  his  elocution 
and  action,  weeping  at  the  scenes  he  described,  or 
at  his  pathetic  appeals,  yet  retiring  as  from  some  tragic 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  79 

exhibition,  the  same  in  character  and  unreformed  in  life. 
It  is  said  that  he  remarked,  not  long  before  his  death, 
to  a  friend,  "  I  see,  to  be  sure,  my  people  all  in  tears, 
and  it  seems  very  solemn,  but  the  next  day  I  may  meet 
them,  and  they  swear  before  my  face ;"  and  that,  "  dis- 
gusted" with  the  manner  in  which  he  had  preached,  he 
resolv^ed  to  alter  his  method,  and  more  directly  seek  to 
arouse  the  conscience,  and  permanently  affect  the  heart. 
In  this,  we  believe,  injustice  is  done  to  Mr.  Larned :  that 
the  secret  of  his  power  is  mistaken.  His  discourses 
from  the  first  were  distinguished  by  simplicity,  conti- 
nuity, directness,  and  force  of  reasoning,  by  abstinence 
from  all  that  was  irrelevant  or  superfluous,  and  more 
than  all,  perhaps,  by  a  warm  and  practical  application 
to  the  conscience,  heart,  and  life.  His  thoughts  came 
home  to  "  men's  business  and  bosoms,"  and  if  higher 
merit  belongs  to  his  later  than  to  his  earlier  produc- 
tions, it  is  but  the  very  natural  result  of  his  advance- 
ment in  religion  and  knowledge  of  mankind,  and  the 
increased  resources  and  self-discipline  of  his  rich  and 
original  mind. 

On  the  8th  of  September,  1817,  he  wrote  to  his  friend, 
Mr.  Post,  from  St.  Francisville,  Louisiana,  congratu- 
lating him  on  his  settlement  in  Washington^  encourag- 
ing him  in  his  arduous  work,  and  invoking  upon  him 
and  his  labors  the  blessing  of  Almighty  God. 

*'  You  ask,"  he  continues,  "if  I  have  any  of  the  discourage- 
ments enumerated  in  your  letter,  attending  my  own  ministry. 
I  need  answer  this  question  but  by  merely  reminding  you  of 
the  character  of  all  this  southern  section  of  country.  God, 
however,  has  carried  me  safely  through  all  external  trials, 
and  given  me  prosperity.  Our  church  is  completed,  the  ar- 
chitect paid,  and  the  congregation  increasing  in  numbers.    I 


80  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

think,  also,  much  solemnity  prevails  among  them.  Were 
my  own  heart  as  it  should  be,  I  think  I  should  be  perfectly 
happy.  But  no,  I  cannot  say  that.  The  yellow  fever  has 
begun  the  work  of  death  once  more  in  New-Orleans,  and 
every  thing  is  consternation  and  dismay.  My  dear  Post, 
you  never  knew,  God  grant  you  never  may  know,  the  feel- 
ings which  now  wring  my  heart.  Away  from  the  most  affec- 
tionate people,  forbidden  by  them  to  return — and  learning  by 
every  mail  that  some  new  victim  has  fallen  before  the  pesti- 
lence. I  have  only  one  consolation  to  my  bleeding  and  anx- 
ious heart,  and  tiiat  is,  '  The  Lord  God  Omnipotent  reign- 
eth.'» 

In  a  note  to  Mr.  Cornelius,  on  the  12th  of  Decem- 
ber, he  announced  his  marriage  to  Miss  Sarah  Wyer, 
from  Newburyport,  Mass.  As  this  highly  accomplished 
and  excellent  lady  has  long  since  gone  to  those  blessed 
mansions  where  we  doubt  not  her  husband  awaited  her 
arrival,  there  may  be  no  impropriety  in  quoting  the  fol- 
lowing allusion  to  this  happy  union,  from  a  letter  to 
the  same  gentleman,  dated  New-Orleans,  January  25th, 
1820: 

**  After  all,  you  see  I  have  married  the  pretty  Miss  Wyer, 
of  Newburyport.  What  she  was  on  the  score  of  religion 
when  she  lived  at  the  eastward,  I  cannot  say ;  but  since  the 
death  of  her  mother  here,  she  has  been  deeply  impressed,  and, 
long  before  I  paid  her  my  visits,  had  she  formed  the  design 
of  coming  to  the  table  of  her  crucified  Saviour.  I  think,  my 
friend,  if  you  knew,  you  would  love  her,  not  for  her  beau- 
ty, nor  her  visible  attractions  of  any  kind,  but  for  her  tem- 
per, amiable  at  any  time,  and  sweetened  and  sanctified,  I 
hope,  by  divine  grace.  But  I  will  drop  this  foolish  subject 
of  praising  a  wife ;  for  let  me  talk  forever,  you  would  still 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  81 

think,  as  the  French  say,  that  the  nonpareil  du  monde  is  your 
own  charming  Mary." 

No  one,  we  think,  can  peruse  without  emotion  the 
extract  we  now  give,  from  the  same  letter,  correcting 
an  injurious  report  which  had  been  circulated  at  the 
north,  and  explaining  the  causes  oi  his  absence  from 
his  people  during  a  part  of  the  summer  and  autumn  of 
1819.  It  doubtless  supplies  the  key  to  his  purpose, 
(alas  !  too  sternly  executed,)  of  exposing  his  life  to  all 
hazards  in  future,  rather  than  allow  a  stain,  even  by 
the  uncandid  or  unjust,  to  be  cast  upon  his  courage 
and  fidelity  as  a  Christian  minister. 

*'  You  ask  me  what  has  become  of  me  during  the  summer. 
I  will  answer  your  inquiries,  for  I  have  heard  of re- 
porting that  my  brother  was  sick  here  of  the  yellow  fever, 
and  that  the  fear  of  taking  it  deterred  me  from  going  to  visit 

him  but  once  during  a  long  sickness.     In  this was 

entirely  mistaken,  and  I  must  confess  I  was  sorry  to  hear 
that  such  a  man  had  even  believed,  much  more  that  he  had 
circulated,  such  a  rumor.  M}""  brother  left  New-Orleans  in 
May,  and  has  not  been  sick,  nor  have  I  seen  him  since.  I 
staid  here  until  the  10th  of  August,  determined  not  to  move 
a  step,  if  there  should  be  sickness.  The  city  was  then  per- 
fectly healthy.  I  went  up  the  river  to  attend  the  Presbytery. 
While  there,  the  sickness  commenced  in  New-Orleans,  and 
before  I  was  ready  to  come  hz.ck^  fourteen  letters  reached  me, 
all  forbidding  my  return  from  the  air  of  the  country  into 
that  of  the  town.  Five  of  these  letters  were  from  physicians, 
and  seven  from  my  trustees.  I  complied  with  these  instruc- 
tions, and  staid  in  St.  Francisville.  Death  and  havoc  reigned 
there  more  than  any  where  else.  We  buried  170  people  from 
this  sparse  population.     My  friend  Benoist,  with  whom  I 


82  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

staid,  died  in  my  arms,  and  gladly  would  I  have  come  to 
New- Orleans,  but  that  my  friends  forbade  me  in  the  most 
solemn  and  positive  terms.  Such  another  summer,  Corne- 
lius, I  could  not  survive.  But  I  will  stop.  You  know  my 
story,  and  will  appreciate  my  motives." 

It  was  stated  in  a^hort  but  pertinent  article,  in  me- 
mory of  Mr.  Larned,  printed  soon  after  his  decease, 
that,  "  by  the  terms  of  his  settlement,  he  was  authorized 
to  be  absent  during  the  summer  months — a  stipulation 
entered  into  with  immediate  reference  to  the  dangerous 
nature  of  the  climate."  If  such  were  the  fact,  it  is 
alike  remarkable  and  characteristic,  that  he  makes  no 
allusion  to  it  in  this,  or  any,  of  his  letters.  He 
would  neither  avail  himself  of  his  liberty,  nor  allege 
its  existence  for  his  vindication.  It  has  been  said,  that 
the  "  rigid  demands  of  his  congregation  constrained 
him  to  risk  his  life  during  the  summer  of  1820  in  the 
city."  We  find  no  evidence  of  such  demands,  and 
feel  assured,  that,  while  some  of  his  congregation 
doubtless  approved,  all  saw  that  a  generous  sympathy 
with  those  in  danger,  a  noble  and  self-sacrificing  con- 
cern for  the  interests  of  his  church  and  the  glory  of  his 
Saviour,  originated  his  determination  to  remain  and 
abide  all  consequences. 

About  the  same  date  he  addressed  a  letter  to  Mr, 
Post,  from  which  we  select  a  few  sentences : 

"  I  hear  from  you  often  through  others,  and  rejoice  that 
your  praise  is  in  the  churches.  Believe  me,  if  there  be  a 
person  living  who  sincerely  and  cordially  exults  in  your 
prosperity,  that  person  is  your  humble  servant.  But  why 
do  you  complain  so  much  of  the  languor  and  deadness  of 
your  congregation  ?    Do  you  think  you  are  alone  in  your 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  83 

trials?  You  undoubtedly  remember  Melancthon's  remark 
about  the  strength  of  old  Adam,  and  I  trust  it  will  enter 
into  your  practical  hopes  and  calculations.  Of  my  affairs 
I  can  tell  you  nothing  new  or  surprising.  The  congrega- 
tion increases;  the  city  is  gradually  becoming  reformed, 
and  externally  there  is  every  indication  I  could  ask.  In 
spiritual  things,  we  make  a  visible,  though  tardy  progress. 
During  the  last  sermon  I  preached,  which  referred  to  the 
sinfulness  of  the  heart,  and  in  which  I  made  no  appeal  to 
the  feelings,  several  appeared  affected  by  the  naked  truth 
goading  their  consciences.  This  with  you  would  be  little, 
very  little,  but  with  me  it  is  much.  I  have  reason,  also,  to 
believe  that  since  my  residence  here  I  have  been  made  the 
instrument  of  seven  or  eight  hopeful  conversions,  and  per- 
haps twice  or  thrice  that  number  of  serious  convictions, 
which  have  remained.     But  it  is  a  dry  and  thirsty  land." 

During  this  closing  period  of  life,  the  preaching  of 
Mr.  Larned  assumed  a  character  of  peculiarly  earnest 
simplicity,  spirituality,  and  power  ;  and  from  the  to- 
pics chosen,  and  the  manner  in  which  they  were  dis- 
cussed, it  is  evident  that  his  mind  was  impressed  in  an 
unusual  degree,  with  the  grandeur  of  Christian  truth, 
and  of  his  exposure  to  a  sudden  transition  from  this 
twilight  region  of  Faith,  to  the  surpassing  and  un- 
changing scenes  of  eternit)^. 

The  following  paper  is  found  among  his  manu- 
scripts : 

"  New-Orleans,  3d  of  July,  1820. 
"  A  year  has  fled  since  my  church  was  dedicated  to  the 
service  of  Almighty  God.  O  how  much  reason  have  I  for 
humility,  abasement,  and  sorrow !  May  God  forgive  me 
graciously,  and  strengthen  me  in  the  resolutions  I  now  de- 
sire to  make,  viz : 


84  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

"  1st.  I  will  try  from  this  time  to  be  more  punctual  and 
fervent  in  secret  as  well  as  in  family  prayer. 

"  2d.  I  will  try  to  give  up,  both  in  fact  and  in  appearance, 
my  besetting  levity  of  character  and  disposition. 

"  3d.  I  will  try  to  study  more  in  my  profession,  and  to 
preach  better. 

"  4th.  I  will  try  to  bring  myself,  upon  the  whole,  nearer 
every  day  to  the  proper  deportment  of  a  serious  Christian. 

"  May  the  Lord  Jesus  help  me  in  my  effort,  for  his  name's 
sake.     Amen.  Sylvester  Larned." 

As  the  human  soul  is  open  to  the  Eternal  Spirit,  and 
his  providence  ever  over  the  faithful  for  good,  is  it  irra- 
tional to  suppose  that  in  their  near  approach  to  the 
grave,  there  may  be  some  extraordinary  communings 
with  the  world  invisible,  some  reflecting  down  into  its 
depths,  of  the  light  and  beauty  of  those  things  incon- 
ceivable to  others,  and  which,  for  the  most  devout,  it  is 
not  lawful  to  utter.  The  path  of  the  just  is  like  the 
morning  light,  shining  more  and  more  unto  the  perfect 
day,  and  may  we  not  anticipate  upon  the  face  of  a  dis- 
ciple about  to  depart,  some  beams  of  the  everlasting 
light,  and  in  his  heart,  the  experience  of  St.  Paul, 
enabling  him  to  cry  out,  "  I  am  ready  to  be  offered." 
Thus,  after  the  surface  of  the  lake  has  been  ruffled  by 
the  dark  and  appalling  wings  of  the  storm,  and  mingled 
with  the  impurities  of  earth,  have  we  seen  the  sun  sud- 
denly break  forth  with  undimmed  brightness,  the  rocks, 
and  trees,  and  flowers  reposing  their  freshness  and 
beauty  in  its  still  waters,  and  clearly  mirrored  on  their 
bosom  the  whole  serenity  and  magnificence  of  heaven. 

Certain  it  is,  that  the  gentle  and  pious  affections  of 
Mr.  Larned  were  particularly  active  at  this  season,  and 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  85 

numerous  and  his^h  duties  discharged  with  constant 
watchfuhiess  and  inflexible  resohition. 

To  one  of  his  earliest  friends,  the  Rev.  Remembrance 
Chamberlain,  he  wrote  under  date  of  May  12th  : 

"Your  kind  and  affectionats  letter  has,  I  assure  you,  con- 
ferred, like  all  your  letters,  a  most  sincere  pleasure.  To 
hear  from  you  is  in  some  respects  a  happiness  peculiar  to 
itself.  It  calls  up  a  thousand  circumstances  and  recollections 
which  we  alone  can  appreciate.  It  hrings  forcibly  to  mind 
the  hour  when  the  inquiry  first  trembled  on  my  lips,  *  What 

must  I  do  to  be  saved  V    When  the  injudicious  zeal  of 

almost  curbed  my  desire  to  be  a  Christian,  and  when  the 
hand  of  brotherly  encouragement  Avas  by  you  extended,  to 
lead  my  stumbling  feet  upon  the  green  pastures  of  divine 
grace.  Such  associations  I  love  to  have  recalled,  for  they 
not  only  impart  that  melancholy  joy  which  the  remembrance 
of  departed  scenes  inspires,  but  they  throw  me  upon  my 
knees  in  the  dust,  by  suggesting  the  unworthy  use  I  have 
made  of  my  many  blessings.  My  dear,  dear  brother,  I  re- 
joice more  than  I  can  tell  you,  in  the  success  which  has  thus 
far  rewarded  your  labors.  Nothing  makes  my  heart  bound 
with  a  purer  delight  than  to  hear  of  the  welfare  of  my  early 
friends — to  hear  that  they  are  rising,  and  taking  an  elevated 
attitude  upon  their  respective  walks  of  life.  Go  on,  and 
may  Jacob's  God  go  with  you.  I  suppose  you  are  near 
Lexington,  (Ken.);  if  so,  you  will  become  acquainted  with 

one  of  the  loveliest  women  in  that  state,  I  mean  Mrs.  B . 

Tell  her  I  am  compelled,  in  spite  of  myself,  to  love  her.  I 
say  in  spite  of  myself,  for  I  have  written  and  writlen  again 
to  herself,  and  to  John,  but  no  answer  rewards  my  hopes. 
If  you  see  J.  B.,*  gripe  him  by  the  hand  for  me.    Remem- 

*  The  late  Dr.  Breckenridge ;  the  memorial  of  whose  distinguished 
eloquence,  as  a  minister,  and  various  and  arduous  labors  for  the  cause 

5 


86  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

ber  me  cordially,  if  you  please,  to  the  little  circle  of  my  ac- 
quaintances in  Kentucky,  for  I  think  of  them  often  with 
great  pleasure." 

On  the  I5th  of  July,  he  annonnced,  in  a  brief  letter 
to  Mr.  Cornelius,  the  death  of  a  mutual  Christian  friend, 
(Mrs.  Brand,)  a  member  of  his  church  : 

"  *  Blessed  are  the  dead  which  die  in  the  Lord/  Ah,  my 
dear  friend,  when  you  lose  an  ardent,  and  glowing,  and 
praying  Christian,  you  see  others  around  you  to  supply  the 
void  ;  but  I  have  lost  the  greatest  pillar  in  my  little  church. 
God  however  is  just,  and  I  will  not  murmur.  Last  Sab- 
bath was  our  communion  ;  some  of  the  Methodists  joined 
us,  and  in  all  we  had  forty-two.  This,  though  to  you  it 
would  seem  an  inconsiderable  number,  is  one  which  glad- 
dens my  heart,  and  enlivens  in  some  degree  my  desponding 
hopes." 

He  then  mentions  nine  new  communicants,  and 
adds  : 

*'  The  season  was  the  most  solemn  I  have  eVer  witnessed, 
rendered  so  especially  by  the  death,  during  the  previous 
week,  of  the  lamented  Mrs.  Brand." 

He  speaks  of  several  others,  in  regard  to  whom 
he  indulged  hopes  that  they  would  belong  to  their 
number,  and  observes,  "  So  you  see  we  have  a  few 
drops  occasionally  descending  on  this  thirsty  hill  of 
Zion." 

The  following  is  his  last  letter  to  Mr.  Cornelius : 

"  New-Orleans,  16th  August,  1820. 
**  My  dear  Cornelius, — I  have  waited  long  but  in  vain, 

of  Christ  and  the  good  of  man,  abides  in  the  hearts  of  thousands,  in 
nearly  every  portion  of  the  Union." 


LIFE   OF    LARNED.  87 

for  a  letter  bearing  the  post-mark  of  Salem.  Do  not  sup- 
pose that  I  mean  to  censure,  for  none  better  than  myself 
can  appreciate  the  excuse  which  your  numerous  and  ardu- 
ous avocations  furnish.  Let  me  merely  add,  lest  you 
forget  it,  that  to  hear  from  you  gives  me  at  ail  times  the 
purest  pleasure,  and  especially  in  our  dreary  summers.  My 
design  in  writing  at  this  time  is  to  give  you  a  correct  idea 
of  the  health  of  New-Orleans.  Cases  of  yellow  fever  have 
occurred— say  half  a  dozen  deaths,  and  twice  or  thrice  that 
number  of  recoveries.  Upon  this  statement  you  may  de- 
pend, and  should  a  merciful  Providence  spare  my  life,  I 
shall  try  to  keep  you  regularly  advised  on  this  subject. 
None  of  your  friends  have  fallen,  or  are  sick  :  in  short,  the 
city  is  universally  healthy,  and  we  cherish  the  hope  of  es- 
caping the  present  season,  the  havoc  we  witnessed  in  the 
last.  Be  good  enough  to  write  when  you  conveniently 
can.     Our  regards  to  Mrs.  C,  and  bolieve  me  as  ever, 

Silvester  Larned." 

Mr.  Cornelius  replied  to  the  epistle  of  the  15th  of 
July  on  the  18th  of  August,  in  the  spirit  of  exalted 
friendship,  and  fidelity  to  their  common  Lord.  Having 
mentioned,  in  apology  for  his  long  silence,  that  for  the 
three  months  previous  he  had  been  incessantly  en- 
gaged in  the  service  of  the  American  Board  of  Foreign 
Missions,  that  he  had  travelled  from  Maine  to  Penn- 
sylvania, and  preached  nearly  every  day,  he  said  : 

"  This  afternoon  your  last  of  the  15th  ult.  arrived,  and 
awakened  such  feelings,  that  although  in  the  midst  of  a  la- 
borious preparation  for  the  Sabbath,  1  resolved  immediately 
to  write  something.  And  first  of  all,  suffer  me  to  express 
my  deep  sympathy  with  you  in  all  your  cares,  and  labors, 
and  trials.  I  know  they  must  all  be  great,  and  when  I  think 


88  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

of  you  as  bearing  the  heat  and  burthen  of  the  day,   and 
bearing  them  alone,  my  heart  is  pained  for  you." 

Having  alluded  to  the  illness  of  Mrs.  Larned,  he 
continues  : 

"  My  heart  bleeds  for  you  in  all  these  trials,  and  I  pray 
God  you  will  consider  each  affliction,  by  itself,  a  messenger 
of  good.  I  have  never  had  a  doubt,  that  if  you  were  a 
child  of  God,  you  would  be  obliged  to  make  your  way  to 
Heaven  through  tribulation.  The  exhortation  of  Paul  is  full 
of  meaning, '  My  son,  despise  not  thou  the  chastening  of  the 
Lord,  nor  faint  when  thou  art  rebuked  of  him.'  And  why 
not  rejoice  if  God  intends  by  such  visitations  to  alienate 
our  affections  from  the  world — to  make  us  better  men  and 
better  ministers.  Your  dear  wife's  health,  I  doubt  not,  will 
be  watched  over  with  the  care  of  a  most  affectionate  and 
solicitous  husband.  For  her  sake,  if  not  for  your  own,  I 
sincerely  desire,  you  will  not  continue  in  the  city  during 
the  sickly  season.  Precaution  is  as  much  our  duty  as 
preaching,  nor  can  we  be  justified  in  destroying  or  hazard- 
ing too  often,  that  health  on  vv'hich  our  whole  usefulness 
depends.  The  death  of  Mrs.  Brand,  I  can  easily  conceive, 
must  be  a  heavy  stroke  ;  it  is  to  me  at  this  distance,  and 
must  be  far  more  so  to  you,  under  the  pecuhar  circum- 
stances of  your  church.  While  reading  it,  a  remark  occurred 
tome  often  mentioned  by  Dr.  Worcester,  in  regard  to  his  own 
experience,  that  whenever  he  had  attempted  to  lean  upon  any 
individual  in  his  church  or  congregation,  as  a  chief  support, 
God,  in  some  way  or  other,  would  remove  him  ;  and  here 
again,  it  may  be,  that  God  designs  you  should  more  ear- 
nestly and  confidently  look  upward.  But,  in  the  midst  of 
your  trials,  you  certainly  are  not  without  your  encourage- 
ments. I  say  it  with  much  assurance.  Rarely  has  any  young 
minister  been  permitted  to  do  so  much,  in  so  short  a  time, 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  89 

for  the  interests  of  Christ's  church  ;  and  when  you  are  dead, 
much  precious  seed  will,  doubtless,  spring  up  to  reward 
your  greatest  toils  and  self-denials.  And  what  is  our  life? 
How  soon  gone  !  Once  arrived  in  Heaven,  how  shall  we 
rejoice  in  having  made  any  sacrifice,  however  great,  for  the 
sake  of  bringing  many  souls  to  participate  in  the  endless 
bliss  of  that  glorious  state.  But  you  need  not  my  words  to 
encourage  you.  The  word  of  the  everliving  God  is  your 
hope  and  dependence."* 

It  is  presumed  Mr.  Larned  was  never  permitted  to 
read  these  words  of  piety  and  affection,  and  he  who 
penned  them,  little  imagined,  how  to  us  they  would  seem 
like  prophetic  oracles,  easting  a  symbolic  significance 
towards  eternity. 

The  terrible  epidemic  spread  with  rapidity,  and  as- 
sumed its  most  malignant  aspect.  Impelled  by  his 
natural  humanity,  and  more  by  his  Christian  benevo- 
lence, Mr.  Larned  was  unremitting  in  his  attentions  to 
all  classes  of  the  sick  and  dying,  nor  could  friendless 
and  afflicted  strangers  escape  his  observation,  or  find 
it  necessary  to  solicit  the  assiduities  of  his  kindness. 
His  brother  George  was  at  the  Bay  of  St.  Louis.  To 
him,  seven  days  before  his  death,  he  addressed  the 
following,  his  last  letter: 

"  New-Orleans,  24th  August,  1820. 
"  Dear  George, — As  Sarah  writes  by  this  opportunity,  I 
shall  confine  myself  to  a  very  few  words.     The  most  I  can 

*  In  this,  as  in  an  earlier  letter,  Mr.  Cornelius  alludes  to  the  fact, 
that  during  the  previous  summer,  in  a  weekly  meeting  of  clergymen 
for  prayer,  in  Salem,  he  (Mr.  Larned)  and  his  great  work  had  been 
constantly  remembered,  and  that  they  would  continue  to  invoke 
blessings  upon  him  and  his  exertions. 


90  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

tell  you,  under  the  head  of  news,  is,  that  several  cases  of 
fever  have  occurred  since  your  departure  ;  a  large  portion 
of  which  are  now  undecided.  You  will  have  heard  by  this 
time,  that  Peter  V.  Ogden  is  no  more.  The  younger  Ins- 
keep  and  Sampson  are  extremely  low,  so  much  so,  that  both 
their  tombs  are  built,  though  they  may  recover.     Among 

the  other    sick,  are,  Major  L ,  young  M.  C,   T • 

W the  lawyer.   Miss  M ,  Mrs.  and  Miss  S , 

H of  Baltimore,  B of  Philadelphia,  and  others, 

whom  you  would  not  be  likely  to  know.  Of  these  cases 
I  am  not  sufficiently  informed  to  speak  positively,  except 
that  the  names  underscored  are  said  to  be  recovering. 
You  ask  about  my  health.  Through  the  mercy  of  Provi- 
dence, I  am  well,  as  is  Sarah.  My  present  design  is,  to  re- 
main in  town.  I  throw  myself  into  the  hands  of  a  wise 
God,  and  hope  for  grace  to  meet  all  his  allotments.  Sure 
I  am,  that  if  he  choose  to  take  me  from  the  world  the  pre- 
sent season,  I  have  no  word  of  objection  or  demur  to  utter. 
I  rejoice  that  you  are  at  the  Bay.  Stay  there  till  health  is 
entirely  restored  in  town.  You  have  had  three  letters,  all 
of  which  I  detain.  One,  by  the  way,  I  have  answered. 
Remember  me  to,  Ace.     Very  cordially  and  truly,  &3. 

Sylvester  Larned." 

Thus  calm,  collected,  confiding  in  the  wisdom  and 
will  of  his  God,  stood  this  young  minister,  amid  the 
gloom  and  ravages  of  that  fearful  pestilence,  knowing" 
in  whom  he  had  believed,  and  prepared  to  enter  at  any 
moment  the  dark  portals  of  death,  at  the  word  of  his 
all-conquering  Leader.  He  remembered  his  Cross,  and 
his  resurrection,  and  that  he  dieth  no  more,  and  that 
he  hath  ascended  to  prepare  mansions  for  his  disciples, 
that  they  may  be  forever  with  him  and  behold  his 
glory,  the  glory  he  had  with  the  Father  before  the 


LIFE  OP  larne;d.  91 

world  was..  On  the  27th  of  August,  he  appeared,  for 
the  last  time,  in  that  church  which  had  been  erected 
mainly  through  his  exertions,  and  mingled  his  tears 
with  those  of  his  afflicted  flock,  while  addressing  to 
them  the  following  brief  and  affectionate  discourse  :* 

THE  LAST  SERMOX  OF  MR.  LARNED. 

"  Philippians  i.,  21. — 'To  me  to  live  is  Christ;  and  to  die  is  gain.* 

"To  a  sentiment  like  this,  my  hearers,  what  can  we 
conceive  superior  in  dignity  of  thought,  or  loftiness  of  feel- 
ing ?  How  majestic  does  he  appear  who  can  look  with  so 
triumphant  an  emotion  upon  the  grave,  —  and  that  too,  not  in 
the  sternness  of  philosophy,  nor  the  torpor  of  fatalism, 
but  simply  in  the  meek  and  confiding  hope  of  salvation  by 
Jesus  Christ !  In  the  present  case,  also,  there  are  some  facts 
which  render  the  spectacle  still  more  illustrious.  When  St. 
Paul  uttered  the  language  of  our  text,  he  was  a  prisoner  at 
Rome.  The  terrible  Nero  had  hunted  long  and  eagerly  for 
the  aged  saint,  till  at  last  the  apostle  was  seized  and  con- 
ducted  to  that  imperial  monster,  who  had  so  often  feasted 
on  the  blood  and  tears  of  the  Church.  Here  it  was  that 
the  godly  old  man — chained  to  a  soldier,  to  prevent  his  es- 
cape, uncertain  what  day  might  prove  his  last,  and  listen- 
ing, at  every  sound,  for  the  fearful  tread  of  the  executioner, — 
here  it  was,  under  circumstances  which  might  have  appalled 
the  stoutest  heart,  that  he  exclaimed,  more  like  a  conqueror 
than  a  captive, 

'  To  me  to  live  is  Christ ;  and  to  die  is  gain.' 
Now  what,  my  hearers,  is  life?     It   comprises,  you   well 
know,  two  leading  ideas — activity  and  enjoyment.    Every 
man  has  some  great  object  upon  which  his  activities  are 

*  A  gentleman  present  wrote :  "  The  whole  of  hie  discourse  was 
solemn,  and  he  himself  was  unusually  affected  by  the  considerations  he 
presented  to  his  hearers  ;  and  as  he  concluded,  he  wept." 


92  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

more  awake  than  upon  any  other.  Wealth  to  one,  Beauty 
to  a  second,  Fame  to  a  third,  and  so  on ;  and,  I  trust,  ex- 
perimental religion  to  a  few,  calls  forth  that  paramount  so- 
licitude and  exertion  which  show  most  decisively  in  what 
direction  the  main  current  of  the  feelings  is  set.  By  this 
rule,  if  you  look  at  the  apostle  Paul,  you  may  find  out,  at 
a  glance,  the  real  spring  of  his  movements.  His  whole 
efforts  were  bent  to  the  single  aim  of  promoting  Christianity, 
not  only  abroad,  but  in  his  own  bosom — not  alone  in  the 
display  of  its  external  embellishments,  but  in  the  urgency 
of  its  work  upon  the  affections  and  thoughts.  The  same 
is  true  in  regard  to  the  idea  of  enjoyment.  There  is  scarcely 
a  man  in  a  thousand  who  does  not  show  to  the  eye  of  his 
acquaintances,  and  indeed  to  his  own  eye,  if  he  be  can- 
did and  impartial,  the  actual  feelings  by  which  he  loves 
chiefly  to  be  engrossed.  The  secret  will  come  out.  The 
votary  of  pleasure,  of  fashion,  of  gold,  and,  may  I  add,  of 
the  Saviour,  are  sure  to  betray  the  supremacy  of  their  at- 
tachment to  their  separate  objects  of  pursuit.  By  this  rule, 
too,  St.  Paul  appears  in  a  character  the  most  unequivocal. 
His  enjoyments  were  in  Christ.  All  his  views  of  happi- 
ness appear  to  have  centred  on  the  one  absorbing  principle 
of  union  with  Him,  '  in  whom,'  to  use  his  own  words, 
*  tho'  now  we  see  Him  not,  yet  believing,  v/e  rejoice  with 
joy  unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.'  Well  then  did  the  great 
apostle  of  the  Gentiles  say,  that  '  To  him  to  live  was 
Christ.'  But,  my  brethren,  does  not  his  language  convey  a 
sentiment  of  conviction  and  reproof  to  you  ?  Could  you 
adopt  it,  and  assert  that  the  Lord  Jesus  constitutes  the  pri, 
mary  object  of  your  lives,  either  by  making  you  supremely 
active  in  His  service,  or  by  making  you  supremely  happy 
in  His  promises.  These  are  inquiries  which  lie,  depend  upon 
it,  at  the  very  basis  of  personal  religion.  Easy  as  it  may 
be  to  carry  about  us  the  seniblance  of  a  hope  for  eternity, 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  93 

the  Bible  declares  that  God  looketh  at  the  life,  not  simply 
in  its  visible  confcrmities  and  observances,  but  in  the  ei\- 
tireness  of  its  dedication  to  Jesus  Christ.  But  the  venerable 
Paul  goes  on  to  say,  that  *  to  him  to  die  was  gain.'  How  is 
this  ?  How  should  a  poor  frail  mortal,  who  had  known  only 
one  world,  feel  a  confidence  so  strong  in  approaching  the  un- 
tried scenes  of  another  1  The  reason,  my  hearers,  plainly 
was,  that  he  had  an  inter '^st  in  the  Saviour's  blood.  This 
inspired  his  triumph,  and  having  this.  Death  was  to  him,  as 
it  is  to  every  believer,  a  subject  of  thanksgiving  and  praise. 
It  released  him  from  all  his  sorrows  ;  and  many  a  one  have 
the  children  of  God  in  walking  through  this  vale  of  tears. 
The  hand  of  God's  bereavement,  or  the  reverses  of  His 
Providence,  break  in  upon  their  happiness  so  often,  that,  *  if, 
in  this  life  only,  they  had  hope  in  Christ,  they  were, 
of  all  men,  most  miserable/  And  besides,  in  entering  the 
grave,  the  Christian  leaves  his  sins  behind  him  ;  and  I  know 
of  no  one  consideration  more  glorious  or  more  animating  to 
a  renovated  heart.  Certain  it  is,  that  by  just  how  much  we 
are  assimilated  to  the  Redeemer,  by  just  so  much  will  the 
bare  danger  of  violating  his  commandments,  or  incurring 
his  displeasure,  be  to  us  a  source  of  the  most  lively  uneasiness 
and  anxiety.  And  then,  more  than  every  thing  else,  the 
hour  of  death,  however  shrouded  for  the  time  in  gloom,  ushers 
the  experimental  believer  into  a  better  and  a  brighter  world. 
To  him  it  is  that  God  has  promised  '  an  inheritance  incor- 
ruptible and  undefiled,  and  that  fadeth  not  away.'  The  very 
moment  life  is  gone,  the  certainty  of  Heaven  comes  home  to 
him  ;  and  thus  it  happens  that  every  one,  rich  or  poor,  bond 
or  free,  who  can  truly  say,  with  the  apostle,  that  *  to  him  to 
live  is  Christ,  may  f=ay  also  with  the  same  assurance,  that 
*  to  die  is  gain.'  And  here,  ray  orethren,  let  me  again  in- 
quire, if  the  sentiment  of  our  text  do  not  tacitly  imply  a 
reproach — or  an  expostulation  to  yourselves  ?  In  what  sense 


94  LIFE    OF   LARNED. 

is  it  that  death,  to  you,  would  be  '  gain'  ? — Death,  which  will 
stop  you  short  in  your  pursuits,  and  lay  you  motionless 
and  cold,  beneath  the  lids  of  the  coffin — death,  which  will 
put  forever  beyond  your  reach  the  offers  of  mercy — which 
will  cut  short  the  busy  activities  of  the  world,  and  dismiss 
you  at  once  to  the  tribunal  bar  of  the  Omnipotent  God. 
Justly  indeed  might  St.  Paul  contemplate  these  things  with 
joy  ;  for  he  was  prepared  to  put  off  his  "clayey  tabernacle. 
But,  to  us,  the  question  comes  most  impressively  up,  whether 
we  have  any  evangelical  and  well-grounded  reason  to  believe 
that  Christ  has  been  formed  in  us  the  hope  of  glory  ? 

*'  Now,  my  hearers,  in  looking  at  the  subject  which  has 
been  briefly  examined,  1  cannot  repress  a  remark,  adapted,  I 
think,  to  the  serious  reality  of  our  present  circumstances. 
It  is  this  :  At  all  times  a  becoming  preparation  for  eternity 
presents  itself  to  us  as  a  most  desirable  attainment — but 
now  more  than  ever,  for  the  simple  reason  that  now  the 
distance  between  time  and  eternity  seems  to  be  most 
solemnly  short.  You  can  all  attest  how  suddenly  a  few 
weeks  past  have  hurried  some  of  our  fellow-beings  from 
health  to  the  tomb.  Do  not,  however,  mistake  my  mean- 
ing,— do  not  think  I  say  this  with  a  design  to  alarm.  By 
no  means.  Your  own  good  sense  will  teach  you,  that  at  a 
moment  like  the  present,  composure  and  tranquilUty,  even 
without  religion,  ought  carefully  to  be  sought.  But  what  I 
say  is,  have  an  interest  in  Jesus  Christ.  Then  death  will 
have  no  terrors,  and  the  grave  no  victory.  Brethren,  my 
heart's  desire  and  prayer  to  God  for  you  is,  that  you  may 
be  saved.  Why  will  you  put  off  the  business  of  your  im- 
mortal souls  ?  Why  will  you  rush  forward  with  the  infatu- 
ation of  madness  and  the  rashness  of  despair,  when  the  arms 
of  a  compassionate  Saviour  are  thrown  open  to  welcome  you 
with  all  your  sins  and  all  your  fears  ?  I  entreat,  and  God 
grant  you  may  remember  the  appeal — I  entreat  you  to  be 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  95 

up  and  doing — to  work  while  it  is  called  today,  because  the 
night  Cometh, — and  how  soon  or  suddenly  we  know  not, — 
wherein  no  man  can  work." 

By  the  exertions  of  this  Sabbath  he  appeared  to  be 
much  overcome,  but  complained  of  no  indisposition 
until  early  the  next  morning,  when  he  was  seized  with 
fever,  which  no  medical  skill  or  appliances  could  sub- 
due ;  and  on  Thursday  evening,  the  31st  of  August, 
the  very  day  on  which  he  completed  his  twenty-fourth 
year,  he  resigned,  in  the  full  confidence  of  a  blessed 
immortality,  his  soul  to  God. 

"  He  evinced  no  alarm,"  (says  Mrs.  Larned,  in  her  letter 
to  Mr.  Cornelius,)  "  when  sensible  that  the  yellow  fever 
had  seized  upon  him.  After  thirty. six  hours,  he  abandoned 
all  hope  of  recovery,  though  at  that  time  no  apprehension 
of  danger  was  entertained  by  his  friends.  From  the  com- 
mencemcait  of  the  disease,  a  most  unnatural  depression  of 
spirits  was  evident,  from  which  no  effort  could  arouse  him. 
When  I  have  bent  over  him,  using  every  possible  exertion  to 
restore  some  sign  of  wonted  cheerfulness,  he  would  look  upon 
me  with  a  fixedness  and  earnestness  which  seemed  to  say, 
call  not  my  thoughts  from  the  contemplation  of  that  scene 
into  which  my  spirit  must  soon  enter.  The  expression  of 
his  face  at  those  moments  I  can  never  forget,  though  my 
years  be  lengthened  to  the  utmost  bound  of  human  exist- 
ence,— the  calmness  and  resignation  of  the  Christian 
triumphing  over  the  struggles  of  nature.  He  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  the  nature  of  the  disease,  and  marked  its 
progress,  and  observed  each  unfavorable  change,  as  it  ap- 
peared There  was  entire  resignation  and  submission  to 
his  Maker's  will,  and  a  readiness  to  obey  the  summons,  at 
whatever  hour  he  might  be  called  to  depart.  When  all 
hope  was  annihilated,  and  the  last  fatal  symptom  appeared, 


96  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

he  beheld  it  with  the  most  perfect  composure,. and  an  un- 
changed countenance.  Death  had  no  terrors  for  him, — it 
came  like  a  kind  angel,  to  bear  him  to  his  Father's  bosom  ; 
and  when  the  heart  that  clung  to  him  as  to  life  itself,  was 
bursting  with  unutterable  anguish,  he  remained  unmoved, 
for  his  heart  was  fixed,  trusting  in  the  Lord.  His  reason, 
except  for  a  few  short  intervals,  was  continued  to  him 
bright  and  unimpaired  to  life's  last  hour.  A  few  hours  be- 
fore his  death,  he  took  his  leave  of  me,  saying  it  was  all 
right  that  we  should  be  separated,  and  begged  I  might  not 
come  into  the  room  again, — he  had  given  up  the  world,  and 
wished  to  shut  out  every  object  that  might  fix  his  thoughts 
upon  it.  We  parted, — my  beloved  husband  to  join  the  blest 
above,  and  enter  a  blissful  and  enrapturing  scene, — I  to  a 
world  which  no  longer  held  a  charm  to  entice  me, — for  the 
dearest  tie  that  bound  me  to  it  was  dissolved." 

"In  the  last  sad  scene,"  says  one  of  his  most  intelligent 
Christian  friends,  "  that  terminated  his  earthly  labors  and 
cares,  the  piety  of  his  character,  and  the  blessed  and  soul- 
sustaining  influence  of  his  religion,  were  exhibited  with  a 
convincing  clearness  and  power.  With  what  tenderness, 
tempered  with  resignation  and  joyful  hope,  he  died,  having 
thrown  his  manly  arm  around  his  youthful  bride,  and  bid 
her  farewell  !  While  yet  the  strong  impressions  of  such  a 
parting  wrung  our  hearts,  an  aged  friend  inquired  concern- 
ing the  state  of  his  soul's  hope  for  eternity.  He  answered 
distinctly f  *  All  is  well.^ 

"  When  the  power  of  speech  was  almost  gone,  the  same 
bodily  strength  remained,  and  he  desired  a  pen  and  ink.  On 
its  being  placed  before  him,  he  wrote  a  ^e\w  lines,  but  so  im- 
perfectly, that  nothing  was  clearly  visible  but  the  blessed 
name  of  Jesus  Christ.  The  last  sands  of  his  glass  were 
fast  falling,  and  the  hour  of  his  departure  rapidly  approach- 


LIFE    OP    LARNED.  97 

ing.  All  our  prayers  and  tears  were  evidently  unavailing ; 
and  our  brother,  friend,  and  pastor  beloved,  was  taking  his 
leave,  to  enter  joyfully  upon  a  higher  inheritance.  We 
watched  the  last  and  parting  struggles ;  they  were  short, 
and  we  wept  because  we  felt  that  we  were  as  sheep  without 
a  shepherd,  but  we  wept  not  as  those  who  have  no  hope. 

"  On  the  fourth  day  of  his  illness,  in  the  evening, 
(the  day  which,  on  the  Sabbath  preceding,  he  had  appointed 
as  a  day  of  humiliation,  prayer,  and  thanksgiving,  at  which 
time  he  gave  notice  he  should  preach,)  this  valiant  soldier 
of  the  Cross  rested  from  his  labors  :  and  when  we  folded 
him  in  the  garments  of  the  dead,  we  thought  how  graceful 
still  that  calm  and  settled  countenance,  which,  even  in  death, 
preserved  its  manly  beauty. 

"  A  fearful  epidemic  was  prevailing  in  the  city — death 
seemed  to  be  borne  to  us  upon  every  breeze — many  hearts 
were  sad  for  the  dead,  and  despairing  for  themselves.  In 
the  morning,  when  the  place  for  his  sepulture  was  chosen, 
no  bell  tolled,  to  communicate  the  sad  intelligence.  At  his 
church  on  that  day  we  met,  and  with  his  remains  before  the 
pulpit,  we,  by  weeping  prayers,  paid  the  last  sad  offices  to 
him,  who,  four  days  before,  had  preached  to  us  as  if  in 
prospect  of  an  early  grave,  from  those  solemn  and  animat- 
ing words,  which  well  expressed  the  exhilarating  and  sus- 
taining faith  that  he  exercised  towards  God  :  ^  To  me  to 
live  is  Christ ;  and  to  die  is  gain.'  " 

His  sudden  decease  threw  deeper  gloom  upon  the 
city  which  had  derived  inestimable  benefits  from  his 
efforts  and  example,  and  whose  admiring  thousands 
had  been  at  one  time  aroused,  at  another  subdued  by 
his  eloquence,  and  responding  sensations  of  grief  were 
produced  by  intelligence  of  the  sad  event  throughout 
the  Union. 


98 


LIFE    OF    LARNED. 


"If  ever,"  said  one  in  a  letter  which  appeared  a  few  days 
after  in  New- York,  "  if  ever  this  city  was  visited  by  a  pub- 
lie  calamity — ever  sustained  a  loss  which  cannot  be  supplied, 
it  is  by  his  death.  He  formed  a  congregation,  succeeded 
in  building  a  church  where  it  had  been  despaired  of,  and 
had  warmly  attached  to  him  hearts,  that,  to  ordinary  attrac- 
tions are  perfectly  insensible.  His  remains  were  carried 
to  his  church,  where  the  Episcopal  service  was  read  over 
them  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Hull ;  and  many  a  tear  from  many 
a  rugged  feature,  showed  how  deeply  they  mourned  him. 
He  was,  indeed,  a  man  whom  no  person  could  know  without 
loving  ;  and  taking  for  all  in  all,  New-Orleans  can  never 
look  upon  his  like  again.  He  died  on  his  birth-day,  aged 
24  years.  On  the  same  day  of  the  last  year,  Mrs.  Larned's 
mother  died  of  the  same  disease  ;  during  the  winter  she 
lost  a  brother,  in  the  j>rime  of  life  ;  her  child  lived  but  to 
die ;  and  now  her  husband  (and  such  a  husband  too  !)  is 
gone.  Can  life  possess  any  charm  for  such  a  victim  of 
sorrow  ?" 

While  appropriate  tributes  of  respect  appeared  in 
many  of  the  newspapers  of  that  day,  some  hearts 
there  were,  which  felt  the  sundering,  by  his  remo- 
val, of  many  of  the  strongest  and  tenderest  ties 
that  bound  them  to  the  world.  On  the  Sabbath  after 
the  tidings  were  announced  in  Baltimore,  Dr.  Nevins, 
by  the  following  words,  gave  utterance  in  the  pulpit 
to  his  deep  emotions  : 

"A  rich  and  noble  trophy  hath  death  taken  in  him,  the 
saddening  news  of  whose  departure  has  just  reached  us.  I 
say  nothing,  because  he  needs  not  the  breath  of  human 
eulogy  to  fan  his  spirit  to  its  resting-place  ;  for  ah*eady  it 
is  hushed  and  happy  upon  the  bosom  of  its  God.  But  I  al- 
lude to  him,  that  I  may  answer  a  demand  from  this  heart ; 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  99 

met,  I  trust,  by  a  demand  from  many  hearts  in  this  con- 
gregation, — that  I  may  speak  of  him  from  this  place, 
which  he  so  loved  and  honored, — that  I  may  leave  with 
you  my  brief  and  feeble  testimony.  He  was  just  going, 
after  having  completed  his  academical  course,  to  give  him- 
self to  the  world  ;  but  the  Almighty  whispered  in  his  heart. 
lie  heard,  and  went  to  the  temple,  and  presenting  himself 
before  the  altar,  consecrated  himself  and  his  talents  to  God, 
God  accepted  the  offering,  and  holy  fire  came  down  and 
animated  him.  When  he  came  before  the  world,  in  spite  of 
the  urgency  of  his  many  solicitations,  the  charm  of  Chris- 
tian society,  the  voice  of  friendship  and  of  fame,  more  fasci- 
nating than  all,  entreating  him  to  stay,  he  betook  himself  to 
the  intrepid  work  of  introducing  the  Gospel  into  that  city  of 
living  and  breathing  death.  He  accomplished  what  none  had 
dared  to  attempt,  and  was  devising  more,  when,  long  ere  he 
had  reached  the  noon  of  his  life,  the  summons  came  to  de- 
mand the  residue  of  the  day.  God  said — it  was  enough — 
and  he  breathed  out  his  great  and  gallant  spirit  to  Him  who 
gave  it.  This  rich  and  valued  specimen  of  man,  around 
wWch  his  fellow. men  used  to  gather,  to  look  upon  and  ad- 
mire, and  which  every  one  wished  to  call  his  own,  its  Maker 
has  reclaimed  for  Himself,  and  keeps  it  in  his  cabinet  of 
men  made  perfect. 

"  The  testimony  to  his  worth  and  greatness  is  in  the 
strange  and  unheard-of  fact,  that  the  fall  of  a  young  man  of 
twenty. four,  has  sent  a  shock  of  sorrow  through  the  States, 
and  awakened  emotions  of  real  grief  where  he  was  never 
seen  nor  heard.  Scarcely  has  death  ever  stopped  the  beat 
of  a  warmer  or  more  expanded  heart,  or  quenched,  so  far 
as  it  could  quench,  the  light  of  a  more  brilliant  intellect. 
But  it  is  all  over.  The  music  of  his  beseeching  eloquence, 
winning  souls  to  God,  shall  be  heard  no  more.  His  absence 
shall  help  to  wean  many  from   the  world.     He  was  one  of 


100  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

those  few  men  whose  death  shall  make  us  willing  to  die ; 
and,  in  the  general  revelation,  these  eyes  shall  see  him 
again  in  peace,  these  ears  shall  hear,  this  hand  shall  grasp 
the  hand  no  longer  chilled,  and  this  heart  shall  again  com- 
mingle and  coalesce  with  the  heart  of  him  for  whom  it 
feels." 

A  plaia  white  marble  monumentj  upon  which  is  in- 
scribed his  name,  age,  and  the  date  of  his  death,  with 
the  text  of  his  last  discourse,  was  erected  in  1836,  in 
Lafayette  Square,  New-Orleans,  and  will  long  stand, 
we  trust,  emblematic  of  the  simplicity  and  purity  of 
his  character — an  enduring  evidence,  that  though 
dead,  he  still  lives,  in  the  power  of  his  example,  the 
hearts  of  his  people,  and  the  undying  love  of  the 
church,  to  which,  he  was  devoted,  and  the  country 
that  gave  him  birth. 


The  mind  of  Larned  was  original  as  well  as  great, 
and  his  natural  disposition  open,  affectionate,  gene- 
rous and  magnanimous.  In  his  modes  of  thought  and 
action,  he  was  far  above  affectation  or  imitation.  He 
had  the  simplicity,  playfulness,  tenderness  of  a  child, 
yet  in  his  loftier  traits,  like  every  master-work  of  na- 
ture, he  stood,  peculiar  and  alone.  Of  the  fountain  of 
love  within  him,  his  letters  to  his  mother,  brothers, 
and  sisters,  give  overflowing  evidence.  Friends  clus- 
tered on  all  sides  around  him,  animated  by  his  pre- 
sence, coveting  his  all-trusting  and  true-hearted  confi- 
dence, ever  joyous  in  the  light  of  his  cheerfulness,  the 
never  clouded  sunshine  of  his  everliving  smiles.  If  the 
frankness  and  vivacity  of  his  temper,  occasionally  to 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  101 

strangers,  seemed  to  border  on  indiscretion,  to  those 
who  knew  him,  his  light  and  trivial  fancies  were  but 
the  scintillations  from  a  guileless  spirit,  working  with- 
out remission  even  in  subordinate  affairs,  for  the  hap- 
piness of  others,  but  finding  its  rest  and  home  amid 
serious  thoughts  and  solemn  duties.  His  attachment 
to  relatives  and  friends,  was  far  above  calculations 
of  interest;  not  only  his  services,  but  his  purse  was 
theirs.* 

To  his  sister,  (whose  husband  had  experienced  pe- 
cuniary misfortunes,)  he  suggested  the  importance  of 
education  to  her  children,  remarking,  "  It  is  in  itself 
the  best  fortune  in  the  world,  and  it  has  one  great  ad- 
vantage of  all  others,  it  cannot  be  taken  for  debt.  Let 
your  children,  mark  my  words,  have  the  best,  edu- 
cation the  country  can  afford.     As  to  II ,  she  is 

old  enough  to  begin  in  good  earnest  now.  I  will  pay 
all  her  school  bills,  and  should  she  be  sent  from  home 
(which  may  be  best),  I  will  pay  her  board  and  tuition 

also.     As  to  S ,  I  claim  it  as  a  right  to  educate 

him  altogether.  If  I  live,  he  shall  have  a  princely 
education." 

To  his  widowed  mother,  six  weeks  before  his  death, 
he  wrote  to  fortify  her  against  undue  apprehensions 

*  Alluding  to  his  departure  frorxi  home  in  1817,  while  his  father  was 
confined  by  his  last  illness,  the  Rev.  J.  N.  Danforth  observes  : 

"  I  saw  the  son  a  few  moments  after  he  had  taken  leave  of  his  father. 
He  did  not  expect  ever  to  see  him  again  on  earth.  The  next  meeting 
was  to  be  in  eternity.  It  would  be  vain  to  attempt  a  description  of  the 
conflicting  emotions  in  his  bosom.  By  a  mighty  effort,  he  suppressed 
these  till  he  reached  the  street,  when  suddenly  nature  found  relief  in 
tears.  He  shook  the  tears  from  his  brow,  compressed  his  lips,  and 
finally  gathered  sufficient  firmness  to  bid  his  other  friends  farewell.  W© 
looked  upon  him  as  a  living  sacrifice." 


102  LIFE    OP    LARNED. 

for  his  safety,  alleging,  that  as  the  yellow  fever  had 
never  been  known  to  prevail  during  two  successive 
summers,  its  ravages  would  not  probably  occur  that 
season,  and  while  duty  seemed  to  forbid  a  visit  to  the 
north  at  that  time,  he  should,  if  spared,  unquestiona- 
bly, experience  the  pleasure  of  an  interview  the  next 
year.   He  adds  : 

"  In  the  mean  time,  I  am  constantly  anxious  for  your 
comfort  and  happiness.  I  fear  that  you  do  not  purchase  all 
the  articles  that  will  contribute  to  your  enjoyment.  Let  me 
say  again,  my  dearest  mother,  spare  yourself  no  expense. 
What  is  it  to  your  children  to  pay  the  little  pittance  for  your 
support  ?  Nothing.  Really,  I  can  pay  one  or  two  hundred 
dollars  a  year  without  feeling  it  at  all.  If  you  knew  how 
trifling  this  consideration  was  to  me,  you  would  not  hesi- 
tate." 

To  one  of  his  friends,  nearly  at  the  same  time,  he 
observes  : 

*'  As  to  the  fifty  dollars  you  owe  me,  I  should  have  for- 
gotten it  entirely,  but  for  your  jogging  my  memory.  You 
gave  me  your  note  in  1818.  Long  afterwards  I  found  the 
note  in  my  pocket-book  and  tore  it  up.  There  the  matter 
rested  until  you  resumed  it.  All  I  can  now  say  is,  pay  it 
when  you  please.  Sometime,  when  you  have  the  amount 
and  know  not  what  else  to  do  with  it,  give  it  to  my  sister, 
and  tell  her  I  make  her  a  present  of  it  for  pin-money.  Tell 
her  to  write  immediately  a  suitable  acknowledgment  for  my 
generosity.^^ 

His  religion  supplied  new  and  elevating  motives  to 
the  force  and  tenderness  of  his  natural  affections,  and 
associated  therewith,  the  sentiment  of  piety  towards 
God,  and  of  a  more  disinterested  and  enlarged  bene- 


LIFE    OP    LARNED.  103 

volence  towards  man.*  Devoted  to  his  friends,  and 
incapable  of  disguise,  he  was  free  alike  from  envy  and 
distrust.  It  has  been  suggested,  that  he  was  some- 
times frank  to  excess,  and  that  his  confidence,  easily 
gained,  was  sometimes  abused. 

His  benevolence  was  unbounded,  and  while  obeyed 
as  a  principle  of  duty,  it  found  prompt  and  never-he- 
sitating allies  in  the  quick  sympathies  and  compassion 
of  his  nature.  When  at  Princeton,  an  unfortunate  Bri- 
tish sailor,  passing  through  the  village,  suddenly  be- 
came deranged,  and  attempted  suicide.  He  nearly  ef- 
fected his  purpose  ;  a  crowd  gathered  around  the 
wounded,  and  apparently  dying  man^  but  without  any 
action  for  his  relief  Mr.  Larned  appeared,  and  took  the 
distressed  man  at  once  to  his  lodgings  ;  called  a  sur- 
geon to  bind  up  his  wounds,  and,  in  the  spirit  of  the 
good  Samaritan,  supplied  all  his  necessities,  watched 
by  him  day  and  night,  until  reason  resumed  her  sway, 
and  finally  supplied  him  with  means  of  conveyance  to 
New- York,  from  which  port,  it  was  his  desire  to  em- 
bark for  his  native  land. 

While  at  New-Orleans,  he  met  on  the  Levee,  a 
young  man  from  New- York,  half  naked,  and  inflamed 
to  madness  by  intemperance.  He  immediately  em- 
ployed a  person  to  conduct  him  to  his  room,  and  per- 
suade him  to  lie  down  until  his  return.  As  the  youth 
became  sober,  he  learned  his  history,  and  by  a  pro- 
mise of  supplying  him  with  clothing,  induced  him  to 

*  "  If  he  were  ardent,  it  was  with  discretion ;  if  he  had  poetic  taste 
and  power,  they  were  under  the  control  of  his  judgment ;  if  he  had 
philanthrophy,  it  was  governed  by  prudence.  His  devotion  never  be- 
came superstition,  nor  his  reason  skeptical." — Memoir  of  Rev.  Dr. 
Greenwood, 


104  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

remain  for  a  day  or  two  at  his  house.  Having*  pur- 
chased for  him  a  suit  of  clothes,  he  invited  him  to  con- 
tinue with  him,  free  of  expense,  until  he  could  secure 
for  him  a  passage  to  New- York,  declaring  that  he  would 
afford  him  the  means  of  a  safe  return  to  his  friends. 
For  a  time,  the  invitation  was  accepted,  but  the  habits 
of  the  youth  annoyed  the  whole  house,  and  such  was 
his  conduct,  on  one  occasion,  as  to  render  it  neces- 
sary to  place  him  in  the  hands  of  the  sheriff,  and  con- 
fine him  in  prison.  At  length,  he  left  his  benefactor, 
and  was  soon  found  reduced  to  extreme  misery.  Mr. 
Larned  took  him  again  to  his  house,  gave  him  an  ad- 
ditional supply  of  clothing,  and  presented  him  with  a 
watch,  with  assurances  of  his  wish,  that,  should  he 
conduct  well,  he  might  return  to  his  family  in  the 
character  of  a  gentleman.  His  kindness  had  the  de- 
sired effect,  and  the  young  man  was  restored  to  his 
anxious  "and  grateful  friends. 

Of  his  deeds  of  beneficence,  we  have  no  record,  ex- 
cept in  the  verbal  reports  of  his  people,  and  occasional 
references  in  his  correspondence  to  the  miseries  he 
witnessed  in  the  recesses  of  affliction  and  guilt,  of  sick- 
ness, pauperism  and  crime.  That  he  delighted  in 
visits  and  acts  of  mercy,  we  know,  and  have  heard  of 
at  least  one  instance,  in  which  a  condemned  male- 
factor caught  from  his  lips,  the  message  of  the  Gos- 
pel ;  and  before  his  execution,  gave  evidence  of  repent- 
ance, and  expressed  the  hope  of  admission  to  the  man- 
sions of  just  men  made  perfect. 

He  was  prompt  in  decision,  bold  in  conduct,  and  of 
dauntless  and  commanding  courage.  These  high 
qualities    were    united    with   an   almost   instinctive 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  105 

knowledge  of  men,  a  quick  sense  of  propriety, 
and  perfect  grace  and  courtesy  of  manners.  Dur- 
ing one  of  his  tours  through  the  western  country,  he 
stopped  for  the  night  at  a  public  house,  where  a  crowd 
of  rude  men  were  casting  aside  restraint,  partaking 
freely  of  intoxicating  liquors,  and  the  boisterous  con- 
versation of  the  bar-room.  He  entered  this  room,  and 
politely,  but  boldly  announced,  that  the  Rev.  Sylves- 
ter Larned  would  engage  in  religious  worship,  in  his 
apartment,  at  nine  o'clock  precisely,  and  that  all 
were  cordially  invited  to  attend.  The  elements  of  ex- 
citement and  disorder  subsided,  many  complied  with 
the  invitation,  and  the  result  is  known  to  Him  only, 
who  rules  alike  in  the  kingdoms  of  nature  and  of 
grace. 

It  is  related  that  one  of  his  friends  in  New-Orleans, 
of  much  personal  strength,  under  the  influence  of  in- 
sanity, resolved  on  taking  Mr.  Larned's  life.  As  is  not 
uncommon  in  such  cases,  he  kept  profoundly  secret  his 
purpose,  nor  was  Mr.  Larned  aware  of  the  disordered 
state  of  his  mind.  His  proposal,  that  they  should  walk 
together,  was  accepted ;  and  having  reached  a  solitary 
place,  the  maniac  drew  a  dagger,  and  furiously  com- 
manded his  friend  to  prepare  to  die.  Mr.  Larned  was 
not  intimidated,  but  stepping  before  him,  and  assuming 
the  boldest  and  loftiest  attitude  of  courage,  exclaimed 
in  a  tone  of  authority,  "  In  the  name  of  the  Almighty, 
I  defy  you."  The  dagger  fell  from  the  hand  of  the 
insane,  and  he  led  him,  like  a  child,  into  the  city. 

Of  his  ministerial  fidelity,  the  following  anecdote  is 
preserved  in  the  recent  valuable  work  of  the  Rev.  Dr. 
Baird,  on  the  state  of  religion  in  America :   "  A  Spanish 


106  LIFE    OP   LARNED. 

gentleman  once  called  on  him  to  say,  that  he  wished  to 
join  his  church  and  receive  the  sacrament,  for,"  said  he, 
with  an  oath,  "  you  are  the  most  eloquent  man  I  have 
ever  heard."  Mr.  Larned  spent  an  hour  in  explaining 
what  was  required  in  order  to  his  becoming  a  member 
of  his  church ;  in  other  words,  what  it  is  to  be  a  true 
Christian,  and  the  Spaniard  went  away  with  a  heavy 
heart  to  reflect  on  the  subject,  which  had  never  been 
presented  to  his  mind  in  the  same  light  before." 

No  man  of  his  age  had  studied  more  the  genius  of 
Christianity,  in  its  adaptation  to  the  variety  of  human 
character,  and  none  more  readily  entered,  sympatheti- 
cally, into  the  various  habits  and  peculiarities  of  differ- 
ent individuals.  In  connexion  with  this  ready  power 
of  ideal  communion  with  the  thoughts  and  feelings  of 
others,  his  finished  character  as  a  gentleman  rendered 
him  attractive  even  to  men  of  the  world,  and  brought 
him  much  into  general  society.  But  he  never  forgot 
his  Christian  obligations,  or  to  advance,  as  he  might, 
the  cause  more  dear  to  him  than  life. 

Ten  days  before  his  death,  he  received  a  letter  from 
an  eminent  military  officer,  whose  mind,  at  past  sixty, 
appeared  interested  in  religious  truth,  and  who  had  re- 
ferred with  sensibility,  but  submission,  to  the  decease  of 
a  pious  brother.  In  his  reply,  Mr.  Larned  says,  "  En- 
tirely do  I  appreciate  the  sentiments  you  express  in  re- 
lation to  this  bereavement ;  they  belong,  I  trust,  to  a 
class  of  feelings  suggested  by  the  poet,  when  he  tells 
us  that  some  feelings  are  to  mortals  given,  with  less  of 
earth  and  more  of  heaven ;  and  I  devoutly  pray  that 
consolation  derived  from  such  a  source,  you  may  always 
enjoy.     Indeed,  if  you  will  pardon  the  frankness  of  the 


Life  op  larned.  107 

remark,  I  look  upon  the  views  and  exercises  which 
Christianity  has  inspired  in  you  at  so  late  a  period  of 
life,  as  the  mellow  and  tranquillizing  rays  of  a  spring 
morning  just  breaking  through  a  bosom  over  which 
has  hitherto  presided  the  dreary  winter  of  a  sixty  years' 
familiarity  with  the  useless  applauses  and  the  base  per- 
secutions of  the  world." 

Such  were  the  moral  endowments  constituting  an 
element  of  his  genius  ;  which  comprehended  also,  as 
we  have  seen,  powers  of  intellect  seldom  surpassed, 
keen  and  rapid  perceptions,  a  memory  retentive  and 
ready,  an  imagination  vivid^  lofty  and  vast,  and  as  the 
result  of  all,  a  judgment  quick  to  discriminate,  bold  to 
decide,  and  seldom  either  erroneous  or  obscure.  Much 
that  others  gained  by  study,  he  seemed  to  know  by  in- 
tuition, and  often  performed  tasks  in  a  few  hours,  which 
many  might  be  unable,  in  days,  to  accomplish.  In  col- 
lege, his  lesson  was  seldom  examined  until  near  the 
hour  for  recitation,  yet  he  uniformly  mastered  its  diffi- 
culties, and  acquitted  himself  well.  His  skill  in  the 
classical  languages  was  evident,  and  his  knowledge  of 
them  acquired  with  rare  facility.  Somewhat  impa- 
tient, as  is  stated,  during  his  education,  of  severe  and 
protracted  investigations,  he  could,  when  necessary, 
concentrate  his  intellectual  forces  on  any  subject  with 
prodigious  effect.  The  evening  before  the  senior  va- 
cation at  Middlebury,  he  requested  of  the  President 
leave  of  absence,  observing  that  his  oration  for  com- 
mencement should  be  submitted  on  his  return.  He 
was  told  it  must  be  handed  in  for  examination  before 
his  departure.  At  daylight  the  next  morning  it  was 
completed,  and  in  a  few  hours  Larned  proceeded  with 


108  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

a  friend  to  his  native  town.  On  one  occasion,  at  Prince- 
ton, the  professor  of  theology  desired  each  member  of 
the  class  to  present  a  written  argument  on  an  abstruse 
metaphysical  subject.  That  of  Mr.  Larned,  produced 
in  a  very  short  time,  was  deemed  without  flaw,  and 
pronounced,  of  all,  the  best. 

In  1821,  a  venerable  professor  at  Princeton  trans- 
mitted the  following  sketch  of  Mr.  Larned  to  Dr.  Cor- 
nelius : 

"  During  the  former  part  of  his  course  in  this  seminary, 
he  was  not  peculiarly  distinguished,  except  for  his  eloquence, 
which  was  always  remarkable ;  but  during  the  latter  part, 
his  mind  evidently  received  a  new  impulse.  His  pious  feel- 
ings became  much  more  predominant,  and  his  progress  in 
theological  knowledge  much  more  manifest.  His  mind  did 
not  appear  formed  for  minute  and  nice  disquisitions.  I 
never  observed  in  him  any  predilection  for  metaphysical 
speculations.  By  strong  conceptions  to  seize  the  outlines 
and  prominent  points  of  a  subject,  was  his  talent.  But  per- 
haps he  excelled  others  in  nothing  more  than  by  the  rapidity 
of  his  thoughts.  He  acquired  nothing  by  slow,  patient  re- 
search, but  by  rapid  glances  he  run  over  every  subject ;  and 
when  occasion  required  a  sudden  exertion,  he  astonished 
every  one  with  the  extraordinary  expansion  of  his  mind. 

"  His  memory  was  uncommonly  quick,  and  I  never  knew 
it  fail  him  in  repeating  what  he  had  committed  to  it.  His 
imagination  was  vivid  in  a  high  degree,  but  more  remark- 
able for  strength  than  delicacy.  I  mean  that  he  excelled 
more  in  the  strong  coloring  of  his  descriptions,  than  in  those 
nice  touches  and  almost  imperceptible  shadings  in  which 
the  refinement  of  taste  very  much  consists.  But  certainly 
one  of  the  noblest  faculties  of  his  mind  was  that  of  complete 
self-command  and  self-possession.  All  his  resources  were 
at  his  command.     Whatever   he   knew,  he  could  express 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  109 

promptly,  and  in  the  best  manner.  He  never  hesitated ; 
the  march  of  his  mind,  when  roused,  was  in  a  straight-for- 
ward course,  without  halting  or  deviation. 

"  Another  trait  in  the  character  of  his  mind,  which  had  no 
small  influence  in  making  him  an  orator  of  the  first  order, 
was  a  set  of  feelings  at  once  quick  and  strong,  and  yet  so 
much  under  government,  that  they  never  seemed  to  disturb 
the  clear  exercise  of  his  intellect,  to  degenerate  into  extra- 
vagance, or  to  afTect  his  countenance  and  voice  in  an  un- 
pleasant manner.  As  you  have  heard  him  in  the  pulpit,  I 
need  not  inform  you  what  power  he  had  of  engaging  and 
rivetting  the  attention  of  his  hearers,  and  of  communicating 
to  them  some  portion  of  his  own  ardor. 

*'  His  powers  of  conversation  were,  perhaps,  equal  to  his 
eloquence  in  the  pulpit.  His  fluency  and  ease  could  not  be 
surpassed. 

"  His  soul  was  formed  in  every  respect  for  great  and  dif- 
ficult enterprises ;  and  when  the  magnitude  of  an  object 
filled  his  mind,  he  disregarded  the  difliculties  which  stood 
in  the  way  of  its  accomplishment.  I  have  never  seen  what 
is  called  address  more  remarkable  in  any  person.  The  ease 
with  which  he  overcame  the  difficulties  of  erecting  a  church 
in  New-Orleans,  was  truly  surprising ;  and  that  this  required 
unusual  address,  you  know  much  better  than  I  do. 

"I  need  not  inform  you,  that  Mr.  Larned  possessed  a 
heart  distinguished  for  noble  and  generous  feelings,  and 
susceptible  in  a  high  degree  of  the  tender  emotions  of  sin- 
cere friendship." 

To  the  charm  and  power  of  his  eloquence,  many  who 
heard  him  are  still  living  to  testify.  Of  these  the  dis- 
courses in  this  volume  hiay  afford  some  explanation. 
But,  as  is  suggested  by  one  of  his  early  and  judicious 
friends,  they  give  but  an  inadequate  idea  of  their  energy 
6 


110  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

as  they  fell  from  his  lips.  Wanting"  is  his  manly  fornr?, 
his  benignant,  yet  kindling  eye,  the  rich,  clear  tones 
of  his  voice,  varying  with  his  sentiments,  now  stirring, 
and  then,  like  plaintive  music,  subduing  the  spirit,  his 
natural  and  easy  gesture,  and  more  than  all,  his  noble 
soul  poured  out  in  all  the  treasures  of  his  sympathy 
and  convictions  in  every  word,  and  look,  and  action.* 
When  he  first  appeared  as  a  preacher,  he  wrote  his 
sermons,  but  delivered  them  without  reading-,  and  with 
all  the  freedom  of  unwritten  discourse.  His  greatest 
difficulty,  as  he  remarked,  in  speaking  extemporaneous- 
ly, was  to  restrain  the  emotions  and  operations  of  his 
mind,  since  the  ardor  and  excitability  of  his  feelings 
sometimes  overcame  his  physical  strength.  It  is  stated, 
that  his  habit  at  New-Orleans  was  to  write  one  sermon 
on  Saturday,  for  the  Sabbath,  and  for  his  second  ser- 
mon on  that  day,  to  rely  upon  thoughts  which  might 
suggest  themselves  during  the  hours  of  worship.  It  is 
to  be  presumed,  however,  that  many  subjects  upon 
which  he  wrote,  had  shared  largely  in  his  previous 

*  The  celebrated  John  Foster  speaks  in  the  following  passage  of 
Whitfield  J  and  the  same  may  be  applied,  we  think,  with  a  good  degree 
of  truth,  to  Larned : 

"  According  to  the  testimony  of  all  his  hearers,  that  have  left  memo- 
rials of  him,  or  that  still  survive  to  describe  him,  he  had  an  energy  and 
happy  combination  of  the  passions,  so  very  extraordinary,  as  to  consti- 
tute a  commanding  species  of  sublimity  of  character.  In  their  swell^ 
their  fluctuations,  their  very  turbulence,  these  passions  so  faithfully  fol- 
lowed the  nature  of  the  subject,  and  with  such  irresistible  evidence  of 
being  utterly  clear  of  all  design  of  oratorical  management,  that  they 
bore  all  the  dignity  of  the  subject  along  with  them,  and  never  appeared, 
in  their  most  ungovernable  emotions,  either  extravagant  or  ludicrous,  to 
any  but  minds  of  the  coldest  or  profanest  order."  Again,  Mr.  Foster 
remarks,  that,  "  To  ignorant  and  semi- barbarous  men,  common  truths 
in  Whitfield's  preaching,  seemed  to  strike  om  them  in  fire  and  light." 


LIFE    OP    LARNED.  Ill 

meditations,  and  though  he  composed  rapidly,  it  was 
with  care  and  effort.  Some  of  his  sermons  were  re- 
written, and  thereby  improved.  That  he  was  capable, 
on  a  sudden,  of  exhibiting  powers  of  intellect  astonish- 
ing to  his  friends,  is  certain.  On  several  occasions,  at 
Princeton,  he  spoke  extemporaneously,  and  without 
special  forethought,  and  with  such  ability  and  effect,  that 
it  was  generally  supposed  he  delivered  from  memory 
what  had  been  anxiously  prepared.  He  expressed,  while 
in  New-Orleans,  late  on  a  Saturday  evening,  to  a  vener- 
able friend  who  had  called  on  him,  a  wish  that  he 
would  suggest  some  text,  as  he  had  failed  to  select  one 
for  the  next  morning.  The  request  was  complied  with, 
and  at  the  appointed  hour  he  preached  from  it,  what 
was  regarded,  as  one  of  his  best  sermons. 

Mr.  Larned  is  represented  by  one  of  his  associates, 
(who  drew  from  his  recollections  of  him  a  sketch  imme- 
diately after  his  death,)  "in  private  conversation  to  have 
been  rapid,  full,  overpowering.  His  voice  was  generally 
heard  above  the  rest  of  the  company,  and  though  he 
talked  much,  it  was  always  with  good  sense.  "Ideas 
seemed  stirring  with  so  much  activity  in  his  tnind,  and 
so  naturally  to  seek  expression,  that  it  was  difficult  for 
him  long  to  be  silent.  He  had  great  natural  intrepidity 
of  soul.  This  was  softened  and  exalted  by  religion. 
His  extemporaneous  powers  were  of  the  first  order.  I 
have  heard  him  deliver  a  discourse  in  a  most  rapid  and 
unhesitating  style — its  periods  being  complete  and  har- 
monious, and  have  afterwards  been  informed,  that  it 
was  altogether  extemporary,  with  the  exception  of 
some  previous  thought.  When  some  fine  or  great  idea 
flashed  upon  his  mind,  his   brow  would  gather,  his 


112  LIFfi   OF    LARNED. 

fine  blue  eye  sparkle,  as  if  the  very  genius  of  persua- 
sion sat  enthroned  in  its  orb,  and  raising  his  arm,  he 
would  retire  a  little,  and  immediately  advance,  pour- 
ing upon  his  delighted  auditors,  the  full  and  burn- 
ing tide  of  resistless  eloquence."  Another  of  his 
friends,  after  alluding  to  the  peculiar  charm  of  Mr. 
Summerfield's  preaching,  as  derived  from  his  gentle- 
ness, exquisite  tenderness,  his  simplicity,  the  truth, 
grace,  and  vivacity  of  his  minute  touches,  the  beauti- 
ful "  interweaving  in  his  discourse,  (like  golden  threads 
in  tapestry,)  of  the  language  and  illustrations  of  scrip- 
lure,"  and  his  deep  sincerity,  remarks :  "  The  ora- 
tory of  Mr.  Larned  was  more  vehement ;  his  thoughts 
took  a  wider  sweep,  his  language  was  rich,  his  periods 
harmoniously  complete,  his  sentiments  more  complex, 
though  not  obscured.  His  sermons  being  often  writ- 
ten, and  committed  to  memory  (at  two  or  three  read- 
ings), had  more  finish.  His  extemporaneous  powers, 
however,  were  unsurpassed.*  Short  notices  for  preach- 
ing were  his  delight.  To  act,  and  act  with  the  great- 
est effect,  on  the  impulse  of  the  moment,  was  one  of 
his  distinguishing  qualifications."  t 

♦  Rev.  J.  N.  Danforth. 

t  "  If  I  might  be  permitted  to  name  any  man  in  political  life  to  whom, 
in  constitutional  traits,  the  subject  of  these  remarks  bore  a  remarkable 
resemblance,  that  man  is  Henry  Clay.  If  his  name  can  be  mentioned, 
if  his  character  can  be  studied,  in  entire  disseverance  from  politics* 
with  which  I  have  nothing  to  do,  then  I  think  he  who  knew  both,  could 
not  fail  to  note  the  similarity.  Let  us  compare.  They  were  both  re- 
markable for  precocity.  They  burst  upon  the  eye  of  the  public,  like  the 
sun  from  behind  a  cloul.  Boldness  of  speech  and  manner  character- 
ised their  efforts.  Hence,  in  Kentucky,  with  its  circumjacent  region  of 
enterprising  spirits,  the  preaching  of  Larned  was  veiy  popular.  It  met 
the  very  tone  of  their  feelings.    And  if  he  chanced  to  (arry  a  night  du- 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  113 

When  the  gloom  of  the  pestilence  was  gathering 
over  the  city,  and  multitudes  retreating,  he  entered  his 
church  one  evening,  to  perform  divine  service.  Few 
were  present,  the  lamps  untrimmed  and  unlighted,  and 
every  thing  indicated  the  presence  of  sorrow  and  ap- 
prehension. He  assisted  the  sexton  in  his  duties,  and 
finally,  in  the  dim  light  of  the  faintly  illumined  tem- 
ple, the  faces  of  a  few,  who  had  gathered  around  the 
altar,  were  revealed.  It  was  late,  and  as  he  stepped 
within  the  pulpit,  he  exclaimed,  "  Watchman,  what  of 
the  night?"  and  inspired  by  the  solemn  aspect  of  Pro- 
vidence, and  his  dread  responsibilities  in  such  an  hour, 
spoke  as  with  a  commission  from  Heaven  in  his  hand, 
to  that  fixed,  silent  audience,  and  so  impressed  their 
hearts  by  truths,  which  were  the  treasure  and  life  of 
his  own,  as  amid  all  changes  of  time  and  place  on 
earth,  could  never  be  forgotten.* 

ring  his  travels  at  a  noisy  tavern  m  this  region,  he  would  not  have  it  sus- 
pected that  he  was  ashamed  of  his  Master ;  and  so  the  revellers,  like 
sons  of  Belial,  under  the  rebuke  of  Ood's  ancient  prophet,  must  either 
disperse  or  be  still,  or  come  to  the  preacher's  room,  and  hear  him  oflfer 
one  of  his  fervent  prayers  to  God.  There  is  a  moral  intrepidity,  a  pre- 
vailing dignity,  about  some  men,  which  subdues  inferior  spirits,  and  ex- 
acts from  them  that  homage  which  would  never  be  paid  by  compulsion. 
Who  knows  not  that  the  western  orator  combines  grace  with  energy, 
imagination,  aye,  passion,  in  its  best  sense,  with  reasoning;  that  his  voice 
has  a  depth,  a  tone,  a  compass,  a  flexibility,  which  are  given  to  few ; 
that  his  power  over  the  affections  of  the  human  soul,  his  skUl  with  the 
mysterious  chords  of  feeling,  is  wonderful ;  that  it  is  better  for  him  to 
write  what  he  has  spoken,  than  to  speak  what  he  has  written, — and  that 
even  then,  in  the  process  of  the  press,  the  living  principle  loses  some- 
what of  its  power ;  that,  in  a  word,  large  and  comprehensive  views  are 
•as  much  the  natural  result  of  the  structure  of  his  mind,  as#ie  all-per- 
vading light  is  of  the  sun  in  the  firmament," — Rev.  J.  N.  Danforth. 

*  This  incident  has  oall«i  forth  the  following  beautiful  lines  from  the 


114  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

A  gentleman,  on  terms  of  intimacy  with  him,  had 
the  curiosity,  on  one  Saturday  afternoon,  to  look  over 
the  fragments  of  a  discourse,  which  Mr.  Larned  had 
just  prepared,  in  expectation  of  preaching  the  next 
day,  among  strangers.  He  remarked,  "  Surely,  you  do 
not  intend  to  give  us  this  unfinished  composition  to- 
morrow ?"  "  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  L.  "  and  I  hope  you 
may  be  one  of  my  audience."  He  was  so,  and  scarcely 
had  the  preacher  risen,  before  every  sentiment  of  dis- 
trust vanished,    he  thought  no  more  of  the  speak- 

pen  of  Mrs.  M.  S.  B.  Dana,  whose  various  well  known  productions 
breathe  alike  the  true  spirit  of  poetry  and  devotion  : 

'Tis  evening  in  the  city,  for  the  sun 

Has  reached  his  royal  chamber  in  the  west ; 

And  now,  his  long  midsummer  journey  done, 
Like  a  tired  traveller,  lays  him  down  to  rest : 

Now  lie  the  verdant  hill  and  peaceful  glade 

Enwrapt  in  night's  impenetrable  shade. 

The  god  of  day,  rejoicing  in  his  prime, 
Had  been  more  prodigal  of  light  and  heat 

Than  was  his  wont,  even  in  that  sultry  clime. 
His  penetrating  rays  on  every  street 

Pour'd  burning  fury  down  ;  and  wo  to  him 

Who  lingered  for  a  moment  in  his  beam  ! 

Men  prayed  that  he  would  hide  his  glowing  face, 

Or  turn  away  his  eyes  of  scorching  fire; 
That  clouds  would  hold  him  in  their  dark  embrace, 

And  stifle  thus  his  burning,  blasting  ire ; 
God's  glorious  gift  to  man,  the  blessed  sun. 
Seemed  turned  into  a  curse — a  fiery  one  ! 

In  every  habitation  they  were  fain 

To  draw  the  curtains  every  window  o'er ; 
^1  sought  alike  some  cool  retreat  to  gain, 

And  wooed  the  zephyr  near  the  shaded  door, 
But  wooed  in  vain ;  no  zephyr's  gentle  play 
Refreshed  the  aching  brow  that  dreadful  day. 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  115 

er's  reputation,  or  manner,  but  found  himself 
borne  along  with  the  whole  audience,  absorbed  and 
overpowered  by  the  majestic  force  and  tenderness  of 
his  eloquence. 

Of  the  influence  of  his  conversation,  a  little  anec- 
dote is  preserved.  While  travelling  from  his  native 
town  to   Albany,  he  talked  freely  with  his  feliow-pas- 

The  dozing  house-dog,  stretched  upon  tlie  floor, 

Hung  out  his  parched  tongue  dejectedly ; 
Or,  restless,  changed  his  posture  o'er  and  o'er, 

And  on  his  master  nxed  his  languid  eye 
With  meek  beseeching  gaze,  which  seemed  to  say, 
*'  O,  will  it  never  end — this  tedious  day?" 

The  ruminating  kine  had  even  left 

Their  resting-places  on  the  shaded  green, 
And,  deeply  wading  in  the  stream,  bereft 

Almost  of  life,  they  stood,  with  downcast  mien: 
How  grateful  from  the  cooling  stream  to  drink, 
Screened  by  the  moss-grown  trees  upon  its  brink! 

But  now  the  evening  threw  her  shadowy  veil 

Over  the  face  of  Nature,  and  the  moon 
Far  in  the  distance  raised  her  visage  pale, 

And  peered  upon  the  landscape.     But  she  shone 
Upon  the  earth  with  sad  and  sickly  ray, 
As  through  the  arch  of  heaven  she  took  her  way. 

And  where  are  now  the  cheerful  voices,  heard 

Ever  at  sunset  hour — tones  wont  to  ring 
Like  merry  music  from  the  uncaged  bird, 

Warbling  his  welcome  to  the  early  spring *? 
Where  are  the  tones  that  used  to  fill  the  air 
From  stately  hall  and  lowly  cottage, — where  1 

Hushed  is  the  music  of  light-hearted  mirth. 

Hushed  is  the  tinkling  of  the  gay  guitar  ; 
A  painful  silence  settles  on  the  earth ; 

No  welcome  sound  falls  on  the  listening  ear. 
Not  e'en  the  footfall  of  the  passer  by ; 
No — nought  is  heard  save  your  own  echoed  sigh. 


116  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

sengers,  and  the  time  most  agreeably  passed  away  in 
the  mutual  exchange,  on  a  variety  of  topics,  of  their 
thoughts  and  opinions.  In  this  company,  was  an 
English  gentleman  of  education,  a  traveller  in  many 
parts  of  the  world.  On  arriving  at  Albany,  this  indi- 
vidual inquired  the  name  and  profession  of  Mr.  Lar- 
ned,  observing;  "among  the  men  of  all  countries  which 

And  why  1    Alas!     Death's  angel  is  abroad, 
And  Pestilence  stalks  before  him.     Through  the  door 

Alike  of  hall  and  cottage  have  they  trod, 
And  seized  alike  the  wealthy  and  the  poor ; 

Th'  unwelcome  guests  small  ceremony  show, 

Nor  till  their  work  is  finished,  will  they  go. 

Their  work  of  doom  and  death.     Man's  mortal  foe 
But  points  his  skeleton  finger,  and  behold! 

Pale  Pestilence  has  struck  the  fatal  blow ! 
The  lovely  and  unlovely,  young  and  old, 

The  gay,  the  grave,  the  prince,  the  peasant,  all 

Alike,  before  his  poisoned  arrows  fall. 

And  many  a  noble  form  must  soon  be  laid, 
Unknown,  unwept,  within  a  stranger's  grave  j 

And  many  a  doting  wife,  and  loving  maid. 
Dwelling  beyond  the  intervening  wave, 

Must,  broken-hearted,  weep  through  day  and  nighty 

Till  re-united  in  the  realms  of  light. 

But  who  are  these — a  small  and  silent  band — 
Now  slowly  gath'ring  in  the  house  of  prayer  ? 

And  who  is  he  who  holds  in  either  hand, 
A  torch  to  dissipate  the  darkness  there  1 

'Tis  Larned — he  whose  lamp  was  ever  bright,  • 

Amid  the  moral  darkness,  pouring  light. 

And  they  who  silent  sit  amid  the  gloom, 

Have  come  to  worship  God : — a  chosen  few, 
Undaunted  by  the  terrors  of  the  tomb, 

Whose  vaulted  chambers  yawn  before  their  view. 
So,  in  the  stormy  day,  may  we  be  found, 
Unmoved,  while  angry  horrors  rage  around  I 


LIFE   OF    LARNEP.  117 

I  have  visited,  that  young  man  shines  most  in  con- 
versation, and  possesses  the  greatest  powers  of  elo 
quence." 

It  was  in  the  study  of  the  late  Dr.  Nevins,  of  Balti- 
more, soon  after  the  briUiant  star  of  Mr.  Larned  had 
passed  away  from  the  public  sight,  that  the  writer  en- 
Behold  the  youthful  minister  of  God ! 

With  noiseless  step  from  lamp  to  lamp  he  goes, — 
Feeds  them  with  oil ;  and  soon  their  rays  abroad 
Through  the  dim  aisles  are  shining,  to  disclose 
Nought  but  the  empty  cushion's  faded  green, 
Save  where  those  few  pale-featured  ones  are  seen. 

Btit  paler  far  than  all  is  he,  who  now, 

With  languid  step,  ascends  the  pulpit  stair; 

Yet  there's  a  holy  calmness  on  his  brow. 
As  round  he  gazes  with  majestic  air ; 

In  solemn  tones,  while  grows  his  eye  more  bright, 

Repeating,  "  What,  O  watchman,  of  the  night  T' 

*'  What  of  the  night  T'  Young  Watchman,  dost  thou  know 

That  question  full  of  meaning  is  to  thee? 
Thy  night  is  nearly  past.     The  first  faint  glow 

Of  thy  celestial  morning  dawns,     O,  see! 
Look  to  the  east,  where  yon  ascending  ray 
The  herald  is  of  thine  eternal  day  1 

'Twas  even  so.     Ere  long,  that  youthful  head, 

On  its  cold  pillow,  earth,  was  lying  low  ; 
But,  glory  be  to  God !  the  blessed  dead 

Die  not  to  us,  though  from  this  world  they  ^o. 
Their  works  do  follow  them.     His  setting  sun 
Left  floods  of  light.     Servant  of  God,  well  done  1 

The  following  stanzas  in  allusion  to  the  scenes  of  that  evening, 
hiive  recently  appeared  in  the  CommercieJ  Advertiser  of  this  city : 

The  city's  pride,  and  halls,  and  bowers, 

In  night  and  terror  shrouded  lie ; 
The  Church  her  lone  and  silent  towers 
Lifts  'mid  the  still  and  sultry  sky. 
6* 


118  LIFE    OF    LARNED. 

joyed  the  happiness  of  perusing  in  manuscript,  a  sin- 
gle sermon,  which  that  lamented  man  had  presented 
as  a  slight  memorial  of  affection  to  his  friend.  I  was 
permitted  to  copy  it.     It  met  my  idea  of  his  genius, 

Dim  burn  the  flickering  lamps  below — 
Pale  trembling  shadows  lend  their  power, 

Casting  the  drapery  of  woe 

O'er  the  deep  worship  of  the  hour. 

"  What  of  the  night  V'—O  watchman,  say. 

Present  to  bless,  thy  prayers  1  hear ; 
Wait,  watch,  till  breaking,  bright'ning  day 

Smile  on  tliy  grief  and  calm  thy  fear. 

Great  crowned  King  on  Zion's  height, 

We  lowly  bow  before  thy  face ; 
With  suppliant  hands  implore  the  light, — 

With  bleeding  hearts  thy  healing  grace. 

Thinned  by  disease,  a  broken  band 
Seek,  sorrowing,  fainting,  shelter  herej 

Submissive  eye  thy  chastening  hand, 
Till  the  sweet  star  of  dawn  appear. 

As  at  the  eve  of  burning  day 

Lone  weary  pilgrims  seek  for  rest, 
If  shrub  or  flower  its  bloom  display, 

Near  moss-grown  fountain  cool  and  blest, 

We  from  tlie  hot  and  parching  breath 

Of  wasting  fever  seek  thy  shrine ; 
Abide  thy  word  for  life  or  death — 

The  same  to  us,  so  we  are  Thine. 

Sin  cannot  look  upon  Thy  throne — 
Darkness  expires  before  Thine  eye^ 

Eternity  is  all  Thine  own 
When  Time  and  Natui'e  fade  and  die. 

Amid  Thy  light,  Immortal  King, 

Our  home  by  faith  we  darkly  see — 
Hail,  coming  Lord  !  in  triumph  bring 

Our  souls  to  life,  to  Heaven,  to  Thee. 


LIFE   OP    LARNED.  119 

and  was  preserved  as  a  precious  specimen  of  his  elo- 
quence. Subsequently,  his  other  manuscripts  were 
placed  in  my  hands,  and,  on  examination,  confirmed 
the  opinion  of  his  merits,  derived  from  general  testimo- 
ny, and  that  solitary  composition.  Time,  and  reflection, 
and  further  attention  to  the  discourses  herewith  sub- 
mitted to  the  public,  convinced  me,  that  the  future 
would  increase  his  reputation,  that  his  powers  could 
hardly  at  first  have  been  duly  appreciated,  or  their 
mature  fully  understood. 

A  combination  of  great  and  original  endowments  dis- 
posed and  enabled  him  to  open,  comparatively,  a  new 
path  in  his  profession,  and  with  an  independence,  moral 
and  intellectual,  peculiarly  his  own,  to  cast  aside  some 
of  its  traditional  formalities  and  restraints,  to  dispense 
with  useless  technicalities,  and  to  carry  home  his  doc- 
trines and  appeals,  in  expressions,  natural,  yet  select, 
in  a  style  at  once  simple,  compact,  elevated,  and  ener- 
getic, to  the  business  and  bosoms  of  men.  This  was 
high  merit.  But  it  was  not  all.  He  possessed  in  an  em- 
inent degree,  the  quality  of  good  sense,  which  enabled 
him  to  understand  the  thoughts  and  workings  of  other 
minds,  so  as  to  meet  them  efiectually,  on  their  own  prin- 
cipleSjand  penetrate  and  move  the  inmost  depths  of  their 
own  feelings.  His  language  was  ever  subordinate  to 
thought — his  imagination  to  reason.  He  sought  suc- 
cessfully to  give  unity  to  his  subject,  so  that  its  parts  and 
divisions,  like  the  bones  and  sinews  of  the  human  body, 
should  be  invisible  in  their  strength,  and  while  clothed 
in  beauty,  the  whole  should  be  animated  by  one  spirit, 
and  bear  on  one  end.  JN'othing  irrelevant,  nothing  su- 
perfluous, was  admitted.  He  enters  at  once,  and  pro- 
ceeds steadily  onward  in  his  argument,  never  pausing, 


120  LIFE   OF   LARNEJDr. 

and  never  deviating  from  his  main  design.  His  words 
are  things,  his  illustrations  arguments,  and  even  his  or- 
naments seem  to  but  clasp,  or  perhaps,  occasionally,  stud 
the  simple  drapery  of  his  great  and  majestic  thoughts. 

In  some  of  these  sermons,  will  be  found,  I  imagine, 
a  combination  of  unity  and  simplicity,  of  beauty  and 
force,. of  imagination  and  passion,  of  harmony  and  just 
proportion,  of  fulness  and  completeness,  extremely 
rare  in  our  own  or  any  other  language.  Closely  and 
compactly  wrought,  the  purpose  of  the  whole  seems 
pervading  every  part,  while  each  part  contributes  es- 
sentially to  the  one  object  of  the  whole. 

He  had  the  rare  talent  of  being  eloquent,  without 
seeming  sensible  of  it,  of  hiding  from  himself  and  oth- 
ers, the  power  by  which  he  moved  them.  As  by  an  in- 
visible wand,  a  look,  or  a  word,  so  simple  at  the  time 
as  to  escape  observation^  he  opened  the  fountains  of 
sensibility,  and  the  streams  gushed  forth.  The  more 
unexpected  the  effect,  the  more  certain,  and  the  greater^ 
the  less  apparent  the  cause.  In  the  various  qualities  of 
his  mind,  and  his  personal  endowments,  he  approached 
as  near  as  any  man  whom  we  have  known^  or  of  whom 
we  have  read,  to  our  idea  of  a  perfect  orator. 

Though  no  man  expressed  his  own  views  on  reli- 
gious subjects,  with  more  candor  and  decision,  he  pos- 
sessed a  catholic  spirit,  and  was  ready  to  welcome  to  his- 
communion,  regardless  of  the  peculiarities  of  their  creeds, 
all  true  Christian  disciples.  Well  armed  for  contro- 
versy, he  appears  to  have  been  averse  to  it,  preferring^ 
rather  to  win  the  affections,  than  confound  the  reason ^ 
to  exhibit  Truth  with  her  attractions,  rather  than  in  the 
attitude,  and  brandishing  the  weapons,  of  war.* 

*-  "  Astronomers  tell  us  that  we  ase  nearer  to  the"  sua  ia  December 


LIFE    OF    LARNED.  121 

The  body  of  Mr.  Larned  was  the  appropriate  habi- 
tation for  his  mindj  combining  in  just  proportions,  dig- 
nity, grace,  and  strength.  Art  could  have  desired  no 
finer  model,  and  seldom,  in  her  noblest  statues,  has 
she  embodied  the  idea  of  a  more  perfect  form.  His 
countenance  well  expressed  his  soul — his  voice  was 
persuasion,  and,  as  he  spoke,  his  eye  threw  a  fascinating 
brilliancy  upon  the  rich  treasures  of  thought  and  sen- 
timent, flung  out  from  the  depths  and  stores  of  his  na- 
ture, so  lavishly,  around  him. 

Finally,  upon  his  writings  (alas,  that  they  are  so 
few  !)  will  be  found  the  glow  of  a  pure  devotion ; — 
they  both  enlighten  the  understanding  and  warm  the 
heart. 

Alas  !  what  now  to  their  beloved  and  admired  au- 
thor is  human  censure,  or  human  applause  ?  What 
will  they  soon  be  to  us  ?  In  a  great  enterprise,  he  no- 
bly fell,  in  the  dawn  of  his  manhood  and  his  fame. 
Anxious  to  introduce  into  the  chief  city  of  the  south 
and  west,  so  soon  to  embrace  a  mighty  population y 
from  various  quarters  of  the  world,  a  pure  Protestant 
Christianity,  by  courage  and  address,  by  disinte- 
restedness, zeal,  and  perseverance,  those  qualities 
which  command  the  will  and  affections  of  man,  he 
subdued  every  difficulty,  and  founded  a  church,  to 
the  praise  of  the  Living  God.  May  it  stand  for  ever, 
the  refuge  and  sanctuary  for  thousands,  who  shall 
aspire  within  its  gates,  to  a  pure  worship  in  the  Tem- 
ple of  Eternity ! 

than  in  June ;  so  that  there  is  a  sort  of  dog-day  fervor  in  controversial 
piety,  in  which  the  Church  may  be  really  further  from  God  than  in  the 
dead  of  winter." — Discourse  of  Mr.  Cheever  on  the  character  of  Dr. 
Marsh. 


SERMONS. 


PRAYER. 

[In  the  handwriting  of  Mr.  Lamed. 1 


Almighty  and  Everlasting  God  :  * 

The  heavens  declare  Thy  praise,  and  the  earth  is  filled 
and  animated  with  Thy  glory.  All  the  works  of  creation,  all  the 
events  of  Providence,  all  the  exhibitions  of  grace,  conspire  to  ex- 
alt our  conceptions  of  Thy  character  and  to  exact  our  acknow- 
ledgments of  Thy  beneficence  and  love.  But  on  such  a  day  as 
this,  commemorating  the  amazing  mysteries  of  redemption,  we 
desire  especially  to  approach  and  adore  Thee  as  the  Saviour  of 
sinners — the  Juslifier  of  him  that  believeth — the  Father  of  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  We  bless  Thy  name,  that  when  the  aposta- 
cy  had  blasted  all  our  hopes — when  sin  had  defaced  the  Divine 
image  in  our  hearts — even  then  it  was  a  time  of  compassion  in 
Heaven.  We  thank  Thee  that  a  plan  of  mercy  has  been  de- 
vised which  preserves  the  majesty  of  Thy  perfections,  while  it 
proffers  pardon  to  the  guilty,  consolation  to  the  desponding,  and 
salvation  to  a  perishing  world.  We  bring  to  Thee  the  tribute 
of  our  unhed  thanksgivings,  that  the  Son  of  Thy  bosom  is  one 
day  to  see  of  the  travail  of  His  soul  and  to  be  satisfied — that  the 
period  is  to  arrive  when  the  Heathen  shall  be  given  Him  for  an 
inheritance  and  the  uttermost  parts  of  the  earth  for  a  possession. 
And  while  we  confess  with  gratitude  that  every  age  of  the 
Church  has  testified  to  the  faithfulness  of  Thy  promise,  we  im- 
plore Thee  to  hasten  the  time  for  its  complete  and  universal 
fulfilment.  May  the  intelligence  of  life  and  immortality  brought 
to  light  in  the  Gospel  be  conveyed  to  the  most  distant  and  desti- 
ute  parts  of  the  world.     May  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  the  de- 


126  PRAYER. 

graded,  be  taught  the  precious  news  of  redeeming   love   and 
trained  for  the  glories  and  triumphs  of  immortality.     Adjust,  we 
pray  Thee,  the  dispensations  of  Thy  Providence  in  such  a  man- 
ner, that  the  day  of  prophecy  and  prayer  may  speedily  come — 
that  the  supplications  of  Thy  people  may  be  heard  and  their  ex- 
ertions rewarded — that  soon  Thy  word  maybe  read  in  every  lan- 
guage and  Thy  love  felt  in  every  heart — that  the  knowledge  of 
the  Lord  may  rapidly  be  diffused  so  as  to  fill  the  earth  as  the 
waters  cover  the  seas.     Look  down  in  mercy  on  this  favored 
land,  to  which  Thou  hast  already  extended  so  much  kindness  and 
care.     Dwell  in  our  public  councils.    May  the  Congress  of  these 
United  States,  now  assembled,  be  directed  to  such  measures  as 
Thou  shalt  own  and  bless.     May  all  our  civil  and  religious  pri- 
vileges be  secured.     May   every  form  of  infidelity,  vice,  and 
error  be  done  away.     May  we  cherish  a  lively  sense  of  Thy  rich 
and  bountiful  blessings  which  we  enjoy,  while  so  many  other 
countries  are  consigned  to  ignorance,  to  oppression,  or  to  captivi- 
ty.    May  we  witness  the  universal  effusion  of  Thy  Spirit,  and 
the  multiplied  trophies  of  Thy  grace  and  mercy,  till  we  can  con- 
fidently appropriate  the  benediction  of  that  happy  people  whose 
God  is  the  Lord.     Especially,  O  our  heavenly  Father,  do  we 
implore  Thy  smiles  on  this  city.     Here,  may  the  Redeemer  ap- 
pear in  the  greatness  of  his  power,   and  gather  many  sons  and 
daughters  unto  glory.     Here,  may  the  Holy  One  of  Israel  be 
seen  repairing  the  desolations  of  Zion,  and  visiting  Jerusalem  with 
peace.     Here,  may  that  religion  be  revived  which  Jesus  Christ 
has  given  to  men  as  the  medium  of  forgiveness  and  joy  to  all  who 
are  governed  by  its  principles.    Pour  out  Thy  Spirit,  we  beseech 
Thee,  on  Thy  servants  in  this  place,  who  are  appointed  to  pro- 
claim  the  truth  and   dispense   the   consolations  of  the  Gospel. 
May  their  responsibility  be  faithfully  discharged.      May  their 
labors  be  rewarded  in  the  efficacy  and  success  in  which  Thou 
art  able,  amidst  all  their  trials,  to  make  them  rejoice.    Smile,  we 
pray  Thee,  on  the  children  of  Thy  grace,  and  strengthen  them  to 
perform  the  duties  of  their  profession.     O  may  they  feel,  in  all 
its'eraphasis,  the  impressive  declaration  of  Thy  word,  that  they 
are  as  a  city  set  on  an  hill, — that  by  their  fidelity  and  exer- 
tions, and  prayers,  the  visitations  of  mercy  in  this  place  may  be 


P  HAVER.  127 

instrumentally  accelerated — that  by  their  lukewarmness  and 
apathy,  hundreds  may  be  retained  in  their  bondage  to  sin — hun- 
dreds may  sleep  on  in  their  lethargy,  and  the  Church  may  long 
continue  to  mourn  that  so  few  come  to  her  solemn  feasts.  Great 
God,  awaken  among  us  all  a  spirit  of  supplication. — Help  us  to 
be  more  earnest  and  fervent  in  presenting  at  Thy  throne  the  case 
of  our  own  souls,  and  of  the  souls  of  those  who  have  never  tasted 
the  blessed  consolation  of  a  hope  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ.  O  our 
Saviour,  remember  the  impenitent  and  unconcerned,  the  mis- 
guided prodigals  who  have  wandered  from  their  Father's  house  ; 
leave  them  not  to  themselves  ;  follow  them  in  their  infatuation  and 
guilt,  and  teach  them  to  return  ;  alarm  their  security,  and  lead 
them  to  the  fountain  of  Thy  blood.  How  long  shall  the  children 
of  this  world  remain  aliens  from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel  1 
How  long  shall  they  continue  in  their  way  to  perdition,  when 
there  is  room  enough  and  to  spare,  in  a  Redeemer's  heart;  when 
they  are  invited  to  come  to  Thee,  without  money,  and  without 
price;  when  everything  around  them  in  this  life  admonishes 
them  to  make  their  peace  with  God,  and  every  thing  awaiting 
them  hereafter,  urges  upon  them,  while  it  is  called  to-day,  to  se- 
cure the  happiness  of  an  endless  and  unalterable  eternity  ? 

Wilt  Thou  adapt  Thy  kindness  to  the  characters  and  neces- 
sities of  all  classes  of  men  ?  Support  the  sick,  the  disconsolate, 
and  the  dying,  with  that  everlasting  hope  which  enters  within  the 
vale — which  sustains  the  afflictions  and  despondencies  connected 
with  the  present  state  of  being,  and  opens  beyond  the  grave  those 
peaceful  mansions  which  Christ  has  prepared  for  all  that  love 
him.  Be  with  us  during  the  exercises  before  us.  Solemnize  our 
minds,  exalt  and  spiritualize  our  affections,  and  send  us  a  refresh- 
ing from  Thy  presence.  May  it  be  good  for  us  that  we  were  here. 
May  we  find  our  Christian  graces  invigorated,  our  hopes 
strengthened,  and  the  life  of  God  in  our  souls  promoted  ! 


SERMONS. 


SERxMON  I. 

"  What  think  ye  of  Christ  1" 

Matt.  xxii.  42. 

In  the  history  to  which  this  passage  is  annexed,  we  learn 
that  our  Saviour  had  been  preaching  in  the  Jewish  capital. 
After  concluding  his  discourse,  the  Pharisees  crowded  around 
him,  libelling,  as  usual,  the  purity  of  his  motives,  and  ar- 
raigning his  claims  to  the  Messiahship.  To  all  this,  our  Lord 
replied,  without  the  least  asperity  or  irritation,  by  retorting 
the  simple  question  of  the  text — "  What  think  ye  of  Christ  ?" 
In  other  words,  if  you  impeach  my  pretensions  to  the  Mes- 
siahship, let  me  ask,  what  do  you  expect  of  a  Messiah  ? 
What  must  he  do  more  than  I  have  done,  to  attest  the  di- 
vinity of  his  mission  ?  What  character  must  he  sustain 
different  from  my  own,  to  suit  the  predictions  of  the  Word 
of  God  ? 

This  was  a  kind  of  attack  which  the  Pharisees  seem  not 
to  have  expected.  Had  our  Saviour  begun  to  reason  with 
them,  they  would  have  held  their  ground  ;  for  what  chance 
is  there  of  convincing  those  who  are  resolved  never  to  be 
convinced  ?  But  when,  instead  of  marshalling  the  field  of 
argument,  he  merely  calls  on  them  to  maintain  their  own 
position,  they  are  at  once  thrown  into  consternation.     Tell 


130  SERMON    I. 

me,  says  he,  your  own  views  of  the  Christ ;  if  I  have  said 
or  done  anything  which  your  Bible  does  not  teach  you  to 
expect  from  him,  I  am  wilHng  to  plead  guilty  ;  only  come 
forward  and  show  that  the  charge  is  just.  It  is  not  at  all 
strange,  that  after  stumbling  and  stammering  through  a  sort 
of  answer,  the  Pharisees  were  finally  silenced,  and  from  that 
day  forth  durst  not  ask  him  any  more  questions. 

Now,  my  hearers,  we    have   our   subject    before  us  :  — 
The  character  of  Jesus  Christ,  regarded  as  an  evidence 
of  his  religion.     Before  we  proceed,  there  is  one  reflection 
which  ought  to  be  candidly  weighed.     Biography,  no  mat- 
ter of  what  kind,  should  never  be  read  without  knowing  the 
spirit  of  the   times  to   which  it  refers.     The  standard  by 
which   actions  are  usually  measured,  is  public  sentiment ; 
and  this,  we  all  know,  is  constantly  changing.     Hence  it 
happens,  that  by  the  lapse  of  years  and  the  progress  of  re- 
finement, what  appears  superlatively  great  at  one  period  is 
received  with  very  different  feelings  at  another.     For  ex- 
ample :  suppose  Bacon,  or  Newton,  or  Boyle,  or  Franklin, 
had  lived   in   the    Court    of  Augustus  Cassar  ;  had    they 
given  the  world  then  what  they  gave   it  afterwards,  they 
would   have  been,  I  know   not,  but  consecrated.     No  ap- 
plause too  loud — no  laurels  too  costly  or  lavish,  could  have 
been  heaped  upon  them.     Two  thousand  years  ago,  some  of 
our  modern   discoveries  and   inventions   would  have  been 
looked  upon  as  almost  miraculous  ;  and  individuals  now,  who 
fill  but  a  moderate  space  on  the  pages  of  Eulogy,  old  Rome 
would  have  enshrined  and  immortalized  in  columns  of  mar- 
ble.    Now,  let  us  apply  this  principle  to  the  subject  under  dis- 
cussion.*   The  moral  world  now^  and  the  moral  world  when 
our  Saviour  appeared,  are  very  different  things.     It  hiis  un- 
dergone a  vast  change.  Eighteen  centuries  have  altered  some 
of  its  most  important  features — have  matured  and  mellowed 
them,  a  Christian  would  sav — have  wrinkled  them,  a  sceptic 


CHRIST    AS    MAN.  131 

would  say,  into  the  appearance  of  dotage.     Be  this  as  it 
may,  in  order  to  judge  fairly  of  Christianity,  we  ought  to 
go  back   to  the  time  when  it  first  arose.     We,  who  have 
been  taught  it  from  the  cradle,  may  see  in  it  nothing  re- 
markable— nothing  original  in  its  principles — nothing  strik- 
ing  in  the  lineaments  of  the  system.     But  the  question  is, 
what  should  we  have  thought,  had  we  lived  1800  years  ago? 
We  mtist  ascertain  thespiritof  those  times.     We  must  repre- 
sent  an  obscure   young  man — single-handed,  and  without 
education,  establishing  a  new  religion.     We  must  remember, 
that  he  opposed  idolatry  when  the  most  refined  nations  prac- 
tised it ;  that  he  inculcated  the  forgiveness  of  injuries  when 
they  ridiculed  the  idea  ;  that  he  taught  some  of  the  greatest 
moral  and  religious  truths  which  the  world  had  never  heard 
before.     We   must  reflect,  that  he  disclosed  his  views  on 
every  subject  that  occurred  ;  that  he  was  called  on  frequent- 
ly for  opinions  which  most  men  would  have  wanted  time  to 
make  up ;  that  what  he  said  was  not  only  never  retracted, 
but  was  said  at  the  time  in  the  most  prompt  and  positive 
manner ;  and  that  the  whole  body  of  his  moral  doctrines, 
new,  original,  and  surprising  as  they  were,  have  been  ap- 
proved, without  exception,  by  the  united  wisdom  and  expe- 
rience of  every  subsequent  age  ;  and   this,  too,  when   not 
another  individual  can  be  found  in  all  antiquity,  but  his  senti- 
ments are  now  seen  to  have  been  more  or  less  exceptionable — 
not  another,  but  on  some  points  is  now  proved  to  have  been 
defective,  on  some  to  have  been  erroneous,  and  on  all  to 
have  been  materially  bettered  by  those  who  have  lived  since. 
It  is  with  these  reflections,  that  we  ought  to  examine  the 
character  of  Jesus  Christ.     His  principles  alone  have  stood 
the  test  of  time.     They  have  never  been  mended.     Every 
body,  good  and  bad,  agrees  that  his  system  of  morals  is  un- 
rivalled.    It  has  been  charged  with  no  fault  and  no  defect. 
Statesmen,  jurists,  and  governments  have  taken  advantage 


132  SERMON    I. 

of  its  excellence  ;  and  yet  that  Jesus  Christ  had  no  oppor- 
tunities.  During  his  life,  not  a  single  man  of  learning  took 
his  side.  He  lived  without  books  and  without  instruction  ; 
poor,  unpopular,  persecuted,  and  finally  submitted  to  martyr- 
dom, rather  than  disclaim  the  least  of  his  sentiments ;  and 
when  he  died,  there  was  hardly  a  man  of  sense  in  the  world 
but  thought  his  religion  had  inevitably  gone  with  him  to  the 
grave. 

Permit  me,  my  hearers,  to  call  your  attention  to  this  won- 
derful personage,  viewed  merely  as  a  man,  as  the  founder 
of  the  Christian  religion.  In  the  first  place,  let  me  men- 
tion his  exemption  from  every  thing  like  ambitious  or  aspir- 
ing views.  Look  at  him  where  we  will,  he  evinces  the  most 
consistent  humility  which  no  applause  could  inflate,  and  no 
trials  dissatisfy.  He  was  emphatically  meek  and  lowly  in 
heart ;  and  there  is  something  in  the  whole  history  which 
shows  that  this  disposition  was  not  affected.  No  attempt 
is  seen  to  display  it  through  the  whole  New  Testament ;  not 
a  word  is  said  to  bring  it  before  us  as  a  mark  of  his  piety. 
We  are  left  to  draw  the  conclusion  from  his  life,  and  not 
from  his  lips,  nor  the  lips  of  his  followers.  In  his  meek- 
ness,  too,  we  find  nothing  unnatural  or  constrained.  He 
exposes  the  faults  of  his  friends  ;  He  reproves  the  malice 
of  his  enemies ;  He  speaks  under  all  circumstances  like  a 
man  of  authority,  and  yet  he  is  humble ;  He  retires  from 
public  admiration  ;  He  works  his  miracles  before  the  world. 
but  never  remains  to  listen  to  his  own  praise.  He  appears 
in  the  whole  course  of  his  ministry  to  have  had  no  motive 
of  personal  aggrandizement.  So  far  from  this,  he  frequent- 
ly told  his  disciples  that  he  expected  nothing  from  the  world 
but  a  cruel  death,  and  that  if  they  followed  him  at  all,  it 
must  be  on  these  conditions :  Whosoever,  says  he,  is  not 
willing  to  abandon  houses  and  lands,  and  parents,  yea,  and 
his  own  life  also,  cannot  be  my  disciple.     And  as  if  this  was 


CHRIST    AS    MAN.  133 

not  enough,  he  is  particular  to  enumerate  the  trials,  hard- 
ships, and  sufferings  which  they  must  endure-  He  tells 
them  fairly  to  count  the  cost  before  submitting  to  the  perils 
of  Christianity.  In  a  word,  every  thing  which  could  mor- 
tify or  afflict,  he  first  encountered  himself  without  a  mur- 
mur, and  then  informed  them,  that  through  just  the  same 
process  they  must  pass  in  entering  the  kingdom  of  Hea- 
ven. Another  characteristic  of  Jesus  Christ  was  that  quali- 
ty which  is  commonly  called  good  sense.  His  conduct 
throughout  was  what  we  might  expect  from  a  great  man 
embarked  in  a  great  undertaking.  Firm  without  obstinacy, 
strict  without  superstition,  and  cautious  without  conceal- 
ment or  disguise,  he  adapted  himself  to  every  class  of  men, 
not  by  the  accommodation  of  his  principles,  but  by  his 
amiable  manners.  In  private  life,  he  appears  the  mild  and 
endearing  friend  ;  in  his  public  labors,  the  firm  and  un- 
daunted advocate  of  Truth,  without  softening  its  pungency, 
without  diverting  its  application.  He  did  not  covet  oppo- 
sition on  the  one  hand,  nor  did  he  fear  to  inflame  it  on  the 
other.  He  moved  steadily  forward  in  the  unwavering  Hght 
of  his  own  mind  ;  and,  whether  in  the  debates  of  the  San- 
hedrim, or  at  the  table  of  an  acquaintance,  he  conveyed  an 
irresistible  impression  of  his  greatness  and  glory.  Every 
word  is  so  full  of  meaning,  and  every  action  so  full  of  ex- 
ample, and  each  one  is  so  exactly  in  character  with  all  the 
rest,  that  even  if  we  could  question  his  heart,  we  are  com- 
pelled to  admit  the  strength  and  comprehensiveness  of  his 
mind.  There  is  a  little  incident  recorded  of  him,  which 
illustrates  the  soundness  of  his  judgment  very  forcibly. 
His  enemies  once  took  occasion,  when  he  was  surrounded 
by  a  great  crowd,  to  ask  him  if  it  were  proper  to  pay  tri- 
bute to  Caesar.  Had  he  said  Yes,  the  mob  would  have  torn 
him  in  pieces,  for  they  hated  Caesar  and  all  his  measures. 
Had  he  said  No,  the  Government  would  have  arrested  him 
7 


134  SERMON   I. 

for  exciting  rebellion  against  the  king.  What,  my  hearers, 
should  you  and  I  have  answered  ?  Feeling  that  it  was  a 
question  which  it  belonged  not  to  him  to  settle,  he  merely 
replied,  "  Render  unto  Caesar  the  things  which  are  Caesar's, 
and  to  God  the  things  which  are  God's."  The  same  pru- 
dent, discreet,  and  judicious  behaviour,  we  discern  through 
his  whole  life  ;  and  I  wish  particularly  to  remark,  that  he 
is  the  only  individual  on  the  pages  of  history  who  has  never 
been  charged  with  a  single  criminal  or  censurable  action. 
Socrates  deified  a  dumb  animal ;  Plato  justified  drunken- 
ness ;  Cicero  allowed  idolatry  ;  Aristotle  enjoined  the  sti- 
fling of  weakly  children  ;  Diogenes  inculcated  and  prac- 
tised licentiousness ;  and  Zeno  and  Cato  committed  suicide. 
But  our  Saviour  has  never  been  reproached  for  a  single  im- 
moral precept,  or  a  single  improper  example.  Even  his  ene- 
mies— the  most  violent  opposers  of  his  religion,  from  Pilate 
down  to  Paine — have  admitted  unanimously  that  they  can 
find  no  fault  in  the  man. 

A  third  constituent  in  the  character  of  Christ,  was  the 
practicalness^  if  I  may  call  it  so,  of  his  life  and  doctrines. 
Why  is  it,  my  hearers,  that  such  names  as  Howard,  Mcin- 
tosh, Reynolds,  and  Granville  Sharpe,  hold  so  high  a  place 
in  public  affection  ?  Because,  you  will  say,  the  public  have 
value  received  for  it.  Those  men  earned  their  laurels.  They 
consecrated  themselves  to  the  cause  of  philanthropy.  They 
explored  the  dungeons,  the  hospitals,  and  almost  the  tombs 
of  their  fellow-beings,  and  made  them  ring  with  the  news 
of  mercy.  True.  And  must  that  Saviour,  who  has  not 
only  spent,  but  sacrificed  his  life  in  the  same  work — must 
he  remain  forgotten,  while  those  are  embalmed  who  have 
neither  surpassed  nor  equalled,  but  only  imitated.  Him? 
What  is  the  misery  which  he  did  not  relieve  ?  or  the  igno- 
rance which  he  did  not  enlighten  ?  or  the  wretchedness 
"which  he  did  not  console  and  sanctify  ?     Rather,  let  me  ask, 


CHRIST  AS  MAN.  135 

where  were  the  Howards  or  Sharpes  of  Greece  and  Rome  ? 
Who  ever  heard  of  such  men  till  after  Christianity  appeared 
to  impel  and  encourage  them  on  their  errands  of  mercy  ? 
Name  a  single  one  who  lived  before  the  Star  of  Bethlehem 
broke  through  the  heavens,  to  show  us  not  merely  the  hopes 
of  a  better  world,  but  the  relations  and  duties  of  this. 

But  not  in  benevolence  alone  was  our  Saviour  practical. 
It  was  seen  in  his  whole  deportment.  Wherever  we  look 
at  him,  there  is  nothing  which  wears  the  aspect  of  enthu- 
siasm. His  devotions  are  most  strikingly  appropriate.  So- 
lemn and  impressive  they  may  be,  but  they  are  never 
heated.  In  the  inimitable  prayer  prescribed  for  his  followers, 
and  in  the  discourses  which  he  delivered,  there  is  a  majesty 
of  thought,  an  elevation  of  piety,  and  a  tenderness  of  heart, 
which  no  man  ever  did  or  ever  will  attentively  examine 
without  admiration.  In  his  conduct,  too,  we  find  no  affected 
singularity  ;  he  dressed,  he  ate,  he  conversed,  like  other 
people  ;  he  accepted  their  invitations ;  he  was  a  guest  at 
their  entertainments  ;  he  was  a  partaker  of  their  joys  and 
their  sorrows ;  he  was  engaging  in  his  manners,  and  affec- 
tionate in  his  attachments  ;  and  unpopular  only  because  he 
spoke  the  truth.  And  so  of  his  precepts.  They  were  all 
suited  to  the  condition  of  human  life.  He  did  not  require 
mankind,  like  Rousseau,  to  return  to  a  state  of  nature  ; 
nor  did  he,  like  the  disciples  of  Monkery,  invite  them  to 
caves  and  cloisters ;  nor  did  he,  like  Zeno,  instruct  them 
to  throw  their  wealth  into  the  sea  ;  nor  like  the  Eastern 
Faquirs,  did  he  enjoin  them  to  scourge  their  bodies  for  the 
purification  of  their  souls.  He  taught  a  plain  and  sober  re- 
ligion, which  thousands  and  tens  of  thousands  have  found  to 
comfort  them  here,  to  sustain  them  in  death,  and  to  save 
them  forever. 

There  is  only  one  more  consideration  in  regard  to  our 
Saviour,  to  which  I  shall  now  advert,  and  that  is,  the  man- 


136  SERMON    I. 

ner  of  his  death.  You  will  recollect,  my  hearers,  that  he 
mio-ht  have  been  pardoned  had  he  renounced  his  opinions, 
but  he  uniformly  rejected  the  offer.  Now,  if  you  or  I  were 
condemned  to  the  scaffold  for  our  religion,  it  would  not  be 
so  strange  that  we  should  persist  in  it  to  the  last  extremity. 
For  in  such  a  case  we  should  be  convinced  of  its  truth :  we 
should  believe,  whether  correctly  or  not,  that  our  future 
happiness  depended  upon  our  perseverance.  Hence  it  is 
that  martyrdoms  have  occurred  in  every  religion  :  for  to 
every  religion  there  have  been  men  so  sincerely  attached, 
that  they  would  rather  lay  down  life  than  disclaim  it.  But 
with  Jesus  Christ  it  was  not  so  :  if  he  had  been  an  impostor, 
he  knew,  of  course,  that  his  future  happiness  could  not  de- 
pend upon  dying  with  a  lie  on  his  lips.  So  far  from  this, 
every  conceivable  motive — his  duty — his  interest — his  wel- 
fare, called  upon  him  to  abandon  his  errors  before  he  went 
into  the  presence  of  the  Eternal  God.  If  he  had  been  an 
enthusiast,  I  admit  he  might  have  held  out  to  the  last,  and 
been  a  martyr  without  regret.  But  I  ask  you,  my  hearers, 
is  there  any  thing  that  looks  like  enthusiasm  in  his  history? 
Does  it  appear  in  the  profound  and  well-adjusted  system  of 
Ethics,  for  which  the  wisest  men  in  the  world  acknowledge 
themselves  indebted  to  him  ?  Can  any  one  in  his  senses 
suppose  that  the  gigantic  intellect,  which  must  have  devised 
the  religion  of  the  New  Testament,  was  so  strangely  excited 
as  to  imagine  itself  inspired  in  the  very  project  which  it  had 
so  much  coolness  and  prudence  to  plan  ?  And  if  he  died  as 
an  impostor,  he  is  the  only  man  that  ever  was,  or  ever  will 
be,  who,  without  any  earthly  motive,  submits  to  a  voluntary 
death,  for  opinions  which  he  knows  at  the  time  to  be  false. 
But  look,  my  iiearers,  at  the  manner  in  which  our  Saviour 
behaved  in  his  last  moments.  He  had  no  legal  trial  at  all ; 
but  at  such  as  he  had,  the  officers  of  Government  were  con- 
vinced of  his  innocence,  and   accordingly  acquitted  him. 


CHRIST  AS  MAN.  137 

This,  however,  did  not  appease  the  mob.  They  were  deter- 
mined on  taking  his  life,  and  frightened  the  Court  into  sub- 
mission. Had  he  not  a  right  to  complain  ?  Where  is  the 
man  who  would  not  have  complained?  He  did  not.  His 
friends  appeared  in  arms  to  rescue  him,  but  instead  of  per- 
mitting it,  he  went  forward  in  person  and  dissuaded  them 
from  the  attempt.  In  the  face  of  all  the  laws  of  the  Roman 
empire,  he  was  led  out  to  execution  the  very  day  he  had  been 
publicly  acquitted.  His  deportment  on  the  occasion  was 
entirely  tranquil.  Had  he  been  an  impostor,  he  would  at 
least  have  remonstrated  against  the  cruelty  of  his  sentence  ; 
or  had  he  been  an  enthusiast,  he  would  have  betrayed  that 
high-wrought  excitement  which  sets  danger  and  death  at 
defiance.  But  he  did  neither.  I  know  not  that  in  his 
whole  life  he  evinced  more  composure,  than  during  the  hour 
which  finally  closed  it.  After  arriving  on  the  ground,  he 
seems  to  have  been  extremely  exhausted,  and  to  have  said 
but  little.  That  little,  however,  was  not  in  his  own  defence. 
It  was  chiefly  in  bidding  farewell  to  his  family  and  friends, 
and  in  pardoning  one  of  the  criminals  who  was  nailed  by 
his  side.  Just  before  he  expired,  he  cast  a  look  of  tender- 
ness on  the  crowd,  and  instead  of  reproving  them  for  their 
cruelty,  he  lifted  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  and  said,  "  Father, 
forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what  they  do."  O,  my 
hearers,  what  a  sentiment  on  the  quivering  lips  of  an  inno- 
cent and  murdered  man  !  How  do  the  fashionable  ideas  of 
honor,  and  the  popular  tribunal  of  pistols  and  balls,  and  the 
bleeding  and  frenzied  bosom  of  premature  widowhood  and 
orphanage,  how  do  they  appear  at  the  foot  of  Mount  Cal- 
vary !  What  must  we  think  of  him,  so  cool  in  enthusiasm, 
or  so  godlike  in  imposture,  as  to  be  the  first  to  inculcate  the 
forgiveness  of  injuries,  and  the  first  to  exemplify  his  own 
lesson  while  bathed  in  the  blood  of  the  Cross !  With  such 
a  scene  before  me,  I  can  no  longer  wonder  that  infidelity  it- 


138  SERMON    I. 

self,  in  one  of  its  lucid  intervals,  should  have  burst  into  that 
impressive  exclamation,  "  If  Socrates  died  like  a  philosopher, 
Jesus  Christ  died  like  a  God  !" 

And  now,  my  hearers,  let  me  repeat  the  inquiry, "  What 
think  ye  of  Christ  ?"  Was  he  what  he  claimed  to  be  ?  or 
was  he  a  victim  to  the  rottenness  and  corruption  of  his  own 
heart  ?  There  is  no  middle  ground.  To  use  his  own  words  in 
another  case,  "  Those  who  are  not  for  him  must  be  against 
him."     Either  Jesus  Christ  must  be  the  King  of  Heaven, 

or  he  must  be,  I  tremble  to  say  what. — Look  at  his 

life — his  character — his  death  ;  and  if  your  minds  can  be 
goaded  up  to  pronounce  him  the  abominable  panderer  of  im- 
posture and  falsehood, — if  they  can,  I  have  one  favor  to 
ask,  which  those  surely  who  are  too  wise  to  believe  the  New 
Testament,  can  have  no  apology  for  refusing  :  I  wish  to  be 
informed  who  wrote  the  biography  of  our  Saviour.  We  have 
often  wondered  that  the  authors  of  the  Letters  of  Junius,  and 
of  the  Poems  of  Ossian,  could  have  resisted  the  temptation  of 
declaring  their  names.  But  to  have  composed  out  of  raw 
materials  such  a  production  as  the  Life  of  Christ ;  to  have 
combined  so  faultless  and  original  a  system  of  morals ;  to 
have  delineated  a  perfect  character  so  completely  that  enmity 
itself  can  discover  no  defect ;  and  all  this  18D0  years  ago, 
when  the  greatest  philosophers  of  the  age  had  been  unsud- 
cessfui  in  similar  attempts  ;  that  any  mere  man  should 
have  done  this,  and  especially  that  he  should  have  concealed 
his  name,  and  not  only  so,  but  should  have  palmed  the  whole 
upon  another,  is  one  of  those  logical  probabilities  that  I  con- 
fess myself  unable  to  comprehend.  But,  my  hearers,  I  will 
not  insult  your  understandings  by  pushing  the  argument 
further.  Let  me  rather  ask  another  question,  conveyed  by 
the  text.  What  do  we  think  of  Christ,  as  our  Saviour  and 
Judge?  How  far  are  we  conformed  to  the  holy  example 
which  he  has  bequeathed  for  our  imitation  ?     Take,  for  in- 


CHRIST  AS  MAN.  139 

stance,  his  humility  :  Have  ^ye  lived  like  him,  above  the 
world,  unmoved  by  its  praise,  and  unambitious  of  its  splen- 
dor ?  Have  we  resisted  the  approach  of  pride,  and  filled  our 
proper  place  in  the  dust,  and  sought  in  our  closets,  and  on 
our  kness,  that  spirit  of  meekness  which  our  great  Exem- 
plar evinced  ?  Look,  also,  at  the  judicious  and  sober  con- 
sistency of  his  life.  Have  we  any  corresponding  indica- 
tions in  our  own  ?  Is  our  piety,  like  his,  the  pure  and  steady 
flame  which  enlightens,  and  animates,  and  warms  our  hearts ; 
or  is  it  the  tremulous  blaze  of  feeling  kindled  by  sympathy, 
and  kept  alive  by  enthusiasm  and  animal  excitement  ?  In- 
quire once  more,  and  see  what  'practical  effects  our  religion 
produces.  Do  we  imitate  our  Saviour  in  his  unwearied  so- 
licitude to  instruct  the  ignorance,  relieve  the  necessities,  and 
console  the  trials  of  our  fellow-men  1  Do  our  purses  con- 
firm what  our  profession  supposes  ?  Will  the  records  of 
poverty  find  our  names,  in  the  day  of  judgment,  enrolled  as 
the  trustees  of  its  wants  ?  Ah,  my  hearers,  that  hollow- 
hearted  Christianity  which  makes  long  prayers,  and  wears 
long  faces,  but  puts  off  practical  things  with  a  convenient 
"  Be  ye  warmed,  be  yQ  clothed,"  is  literally  less  than  no- 
thing, and  vanity.  Never,  till  hypocrisy  is  numbered  among 
the  cardiTlal  virtues,  will  such  a  wretched  pretext  pass  for 
the  genuine  currency  of  the  Bible.  In  the  disclosure  of  the 
final  day,  the  inquiry  of  our  text  will  be  put  to  us  again  ;  and 
if  we  should  then  be  found  to  have  contradicted  in  our  lives 
what  we  professed  with  our  lips,  the  effrontery  of  our  pre- 
tensions will  only  aggravate  our  guilt,  and  lend  a  fresh  sting 
to  the  despair  of  Eternity. 


140  SERMON  II. 


SERMON  II. 

"And  as  he  reasoned  of  righteousness,  temperance,  and  judgment  to 

come,  Felix  trembled." 

Acts  xxiv.,  25. 

There  is  something  in  truth,  my  hearers,  which  renders 
it  awfully  commanding  and  impressive.  Such  are  the  rela- 
tions which  the  Eternal  God  has  made  it  to  sustain  towards 
the  moral  sense,  that  no  scepticism,  however  daring,  and  no 
hostility,  however  malignant,  are  proof  against  the  Her- 
culean power  of  its  grasp.  Were  it  not  for  this,  on  what 
principle  are  we  to  account  for  the  prodigious  success  which 
attended  the  preaching  of  the  Apostle  Paul  ?  It  is  true,  he 
had  the  advantage  of  talents,  and  of  a  liberal  and  accom- 
plished education.  But  we  should  suppose  his  public  per- 
formances were  by  no  means  extraordinary.  He  is  said 
to  have  been  a  man  of  inferior  personal  appearance,  of  in- 
firm health,  and  of  a  very  unpleasant  hesitancy  of  e- 
nunciation.  Yet,  we  find  him,  in  spite  of  the  unpopular 
enterprise  in  which  he  was  embarked,  commanding  respect 
from  every  audience,  and  in  every  circle.  Infidelity  withered 
under  his  eye  ;  wit  shrunk  from  the  dignity  of  his  frown  ; 
the  decorated  insolence  of  office  trembled  before  him  even 
while  he  stood  a  criminal  at  its  bar  ;  and  if  the  relations  of 
history  may  be  credited,  the  charge  which  finally  brought 
him  to  the  stake,  was  no  other  than  the  uneasiness  he  had 
awakened  in  the  mind  of  Nero,  and  the  restraints  which  his 
preaching  was  likely  to  impose  upon  that  debauched  and 
abandoned  emperor. 

The  attitude  in  which  we  are  called  to  contemplate  this 
wonderful  apostle  to-day,  is  not  at  all  judicial,  although  he 


PAUL  BEFORE  FELIX.  141 

is  standing  before  the  chief  magistrate  of  the  country. 
Several  weeks  previous  to  this  period,  he  had  been  put  on 
trial,  but  owing  to  a  pretended  absence  of  testimony,  on  the 
part  of  the  Government,  it  was  adjourned.  During  the  inter- 
val, while  he  was  awaiting  the  result  in  prison,  Felix  came  in- 
to town,  with  his  wife  Drusilla,  and  actuated  by  a  curiosity 
more  natural  than  it  was  delicate,  they  sent  for  St.  Paul,  to 
hear  him  explain  and  defend  his  principles.  Now,  my 
hearers,  remark  two  or  three  historical  facts  connected  with 
these  transactions.  When  the  Jewish  nation  became  tri- 
butary to  the  Roman  Empire,  the  government  was  entrusted 
to  procurators,  appointed  by  the  crown.  One  of  these  offi- 
cers you  behold  in  the  person  of  Claudius  Felix,  who,  by 
taking  advantage  of  imperial  imbecility,  contrived  to  insinu- 
ate himself  into  public  life.  He  is  depicted  by  his  biogra- 
phers as  exceedingly  avaricious,  trampling  ahke  upon  every 
dictate  of  justice,  and  every  suggestion  of  humanity,  when 
his  own  interest  was  at  stake  ;  and  it  appears,  from  the  ac- 
count, that  he  retained  the  apostle  in  confinement  merely  in 
the  expectation  that  his  friends  would  purchase  his  release. 
In  regard  to  Drusilla,  his  conduct  had  been  stamped  with 
indelible  infamy.  When  the  procurator  first  saw  this  wo- 
man, she  was  the  wife  of  a  neighboring  prince,  and  the 
solemn  obligations  of  marriage  were  resting  on  her  soul. 
But  he  persuaded  her  to  violate  her  fidelity, — to  abandon 
her  engagements, — and  to  sacrifice  to  an  illegitimate  union 
with  himself,  all  the  claims  of  her  former  husband, 
all  the  responsibility  of  her  own  vows,  and  all  the  chas- 
tity and  sacredness  of  conjugal  love  ;  and  this,  too,  when 
he  was  Governor  of  Judea — when  the  people  were  look- 
ing to  him  for  an  example — and  when  he  knew,  as  every 
body  knows,  that  practises  which  receive  the  impress  of 
fashion  and  of  rank,  are  seized  and  circulated  with  redoubled 
eagerness  through  all  the  subordinate  classes  of  society. 
7* 


142  SERMON    II. 

My  hearers,  mark  the  apostle.  He  reasoned  of  righte- 
ousness— for  he  spoke  to  a  man,  who,  in  addition  to 
his  general  avidity  for  wealth,  was  at  that  very  moment 
keeping  him  confined,  in  hope  of  a  reward  for  his  libera- 
tion. He  reasoned  of  temperance — for  he  spoke  to  a  man 
who  had  there  by  his  side  a  living  witness  that  no  ties  were 
too  sacred  for  him  to  burst,  and  no  passion  too  debased  for 
him  to  cherish.  He  reasoned  of  a  judgment  to  come — for 
he  spoke  to  a  man,  who,  however  his  official  standing  might 
shield  him  from  human  punishment,  would  one  day  appear 
at  the  tribunal  of  Christ,  to  answer  for  the  influence  of  his 
example,  and  the  aggravation  of  his  guilt.  Such  are  the 
outlines  of  the  apostle's  address.  The  sacred  volume  has 
not  furnished  us  with  the  details.  For  these  we  must  resort 
to  the  few  hints  disclosed  by  the  text,  applied  to  the  cha- 
racters and  circumstances  of  those  for  whom  they  were  in- 
tended. He  reasoned  of  righteousness, — a  term  sometimes, 
perhaps,  commonly  regulated  in  its  meaning  by  the  exi- 
gency of  the  passage  in  which  it  stands.  It  seems  here  to 
be  contrasted  more  immediately  with  that  sordid  and  merce- 
nary spirit  which  had  prompted  Felix  unjustly  to  protract 
the  imprisonment  of  his  captive.  Now,  my  hearers,  although 
this  specific  act  can  never  again  be  performed,  the  temper  by 
which  it  was  dictated,  may  still  be  found.  It  is  found  in 
every  improper  method  for  becoming  rich.  To  neglect  the 
duties  of  religion  for  the  speculations  of  trade — to  devote 
the  Sabbath  to  the  counting-room,  instead  of  the  sanctuary 
— to  take  advantage  of  the  misfortunes  and  necessities  of 
others,  and  then,  with  a  disposition  which  always  accom- 
panies this,  to  cling,  with  the  grasp  of  death,  to  a  property 
that  ought  ever  to  be  laid  at  the  foot  of  the  Cross.  What 
is  this  but  the  very  same  spirit  which  St.  Paul  reprobated  in 
Felix?  I  do  not  mean  that  the  Gospel  of  Christ  imposes 
restraints  upon  the  acquisition  of  wealth ;  so  far  from  that, 


PAUL  BEFORE  FELIX.  143 

we  are  encouraged,  we  are  instructed,  to  adopt  every  expe- 
dient, which  the  Bible  will  warrant,  for  extending  our  use- 
fulness, and  increasing  our  enjoyments.  But  when  the  love 
of  money  absorbs  those  affeutions  which  are  due  to  God 
alone — when  it  leads  us  to  conduct  over  which  a  death-bed 
will  extort  the  anguish  of  remorse — when  it  deafens  the 
ear  to  the  cry  of  the  widow  and  the  orphan — when  it 
erects  an  intrenchment  around  the  heart  which  frowns  back 
the  approach  of  indigence,  and  the  plea  of  suffering  and 
distress, — then  it  is  that  we  ought  to  exchange  places  with 
the  Roman  deputy,  and  tremble  under  the  lesson  which  St. 
Paul  thundered  to  his  conscience.  For,  after  all,  my  hearers, 
what  is  wealth  when  acquired  or  retained  with  feelings  such 
as  these  ?  Literally  a  curse  instead  of  a  blessing,  enhancing 
our  responsibility,  without  pron.oting  our  happiness.  Just 
follow  to  the  solemnity  of  a  dying  hour,  the  man  who  has 
obtained  his  money  by  forgetting  his  Saviour,  and,  not  con- 
tent with  this,  has  withheld  it  from  the  claims  of  religion  and 
humanity.  Why  does  he  turn  pale,  and  quiver  like  an  as- 
pen, when  he  stands  on  the  edge  of  the  grave  ?  Why  has 
the  bed  of  down,  the  silken  canopy,  the  ornamented  cham- 
ber, so  often  attested  the  anguish  of  unpardoned  guilt  ? 
Why  have  we  heard,  even  from  the  lips  of  expiring  royalty 
itself,  "  Millions,  millions  of  treasure  for  an  inch  of  time." 
To  this  solemn  hour,  each  of  us,  my  hearers,  is  hastening — 
an  hour  we  ought  ever  to  remember,  when  a  single  shilling, 
unjustly  obtained,  will  weigh  like  a  mountain  on  the  soul; 
and  when  all  that  we  can  call  our  own,  will  be  what  we  have 
given  for  the  relief  of  the  wretched,  and  the  advancement 
of  the  kingdom  of  Christ. 

The  apostle  reasoned  of  temperance.  You  can  imagine 
what  he  said.  You  recollect  the  two  individuals  to  whom 
he  spoke,  and  the  relations  they  sustained  towards  each 
other.     And  if  his  fidelity  did  not  shrink  from  the  trial  to 


144  SERMON    II. 

which  it  was  then  called,  you  can  imagine  also  what  he 
would  have  said,  had  he  been  preaching  in  some  of  our  large 
towns  and  cities,  where  a  moment's  glance  may  detect  any 
grade  of  licentiousness,  from  its  most  desperate  to  its  most 
mitigated  form.  He  would  have  examined  that  defence  of 
it  so  boldly  urged,  and  so  often  appealed  to,  which  pleads 
the  implantation  of  passions  in  the  human  breast,  as  an 
apology  for  their  indulgence.  He  would  have  taught  us  that 
the  opinion  had  originated  not  from  religion,  nor  morality, 
nor  sober  reflection,  but  from  that  convenient  principle 
which  induces  us,  after  the  commission  of  any  deliberate 
sin,  to  hunt  up  considerations  to  palliate  or  justify  our  con- 
duct. He  would  have  told  us,  that  if  such  sentiments  were 
generally  reduced  to  practice,  they  would  not  only  call 
down  the  curse  of  God — not  only  blight  all  the  endow- 
ments of  the  domestic  relations,  but  they  would  wither  so- 
ciety like  the  Samael  of  the  desert.  He  would  have  re- 
minded us  that  if  there  be  any  thing  sacred  beyond  the  im- 
mediate enclosure  of  religion,  it  is  the  marriage  covenant. 
Unequivocally,  therefore,  to  profane  this  sanctuary  of  hu- 
man life,  not  merely  by  a  violation  of  its  holiness,  but 
by  indulgences,  which  its  sanction  alone  can  justify, — 
indulgences  commonly,  indeed,  secluded  from  observation 
by  the  shelter  of  appropriate  darkness,  but  sometimes  adopt- 
ed and  retained  in  the  very  face  of  day, — I  say  it  is  to  set 
at  defiance  all  that  is  binding  in  moral  obligation,  and  all 
that  is  valuable  and  dear  in  the  social  compact.  And  then, 
that  men  should  throw  the  blame  on  their  Maker  by  plead- 
ing the  tendencies  which  He  has  interwoven  with  their  con- 
stitution !  As  well  might  the  drunkard  plead  the  craving 
appetite  in  extenuation  of  his  beastly  debaucheries.  As 
well  might  the  midnight  assassin  find  an  apology  for  his 
guilt  in  the  damning  disposition  which  drove  him  to  con- 
tract it.     No,  my  hearers,  there  is  nothing  in  the  nature  of 


/ 


PAUL  BEFORE  FELIX.  145 

our  o\V^  propensities — nothing  in  the  silence,  or  in  the  sanc- 
tion of  public  opinion,  which  can  palliate  an  approach  even 
to  the  frontiers  of  licentiousness.  It  debases  the  heart — it 
corrupts  and  debilitates  the  mind.  If  I  may  say  so,  it 
unhumanises  man  ;  and  no  matter  in  what  community  it 
may  be  found,  or  by  what  examples  it  may  be  defended,  or 
under  what  pretexts  or  plausibiHties  it  may  be  sheltered,  it 
never  did  and  never  will  prevail,  unless  linked  in,  sooner  or 
later,  with  the  most  tremendous  woes  that  Omnipotence 
can  shed  on  his  apostate  world. 

The  apostle  reasoned  of  a  judgment  to  come,  a  subject 
solemnly  interesting  to  all  men,  but  doubly  so  to  those  who 
are  invested  with  the  responsibility  of  influence  and  rank. 
I  do  not  wonder,  my  brethren,  that  St.  Paul  improved  his 
opportunity  of  pressing  this  point  with  Felix  ;  for,  in  the  first 
place,  it  might  have  been  expected,  if  he  spoke  at  all,  that 
he  would  speak  the  truth  ;  and,  in  the  second,  it  is  with 
the  higher  classes  of  society,  most  of  all,  that  such  considera- 
tions are  apt  to  be  forgotten,  or  if  occasionally  remembered, 
to  be  dispatched  with  little  investigation,  and  less  anxiety. 
Now,  if  this  judgment  to  come  be  a  reality,  and  not  a  fable  ; 
if  it  be  a  doctrine  of  inspiration,  and  not  a  dream  of  mytho- 
logical poetry  ;  it  is  certain  that  those  who,  by  moving  in  an 
elevated  circle,  have  possessed  the  means  of  more  extensive 
usefulness,  will  find  an  accumulated  account  to  settle  at  a 
future  day.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  denounce  refinement  of 
manners,  or  the  accomplishments  of  education,  or  the  ele- 
gance of  polished  hospitality.  Separated  from  that  genteel, 
hypocritical,  and  hollow-hearted  insincerity,  which  is  too 
often  swept  under  the  name  of  fashion,  t  rejoice  in  them. 
But,  O  when  I  look  at  the  magnificence  of  that  wealth  on 
which  the  houseless  wanderer  may  gaze  in  vain,  till  the 
famishings  of  hunger  have  emaciated  his  body,  and  the 
coidQess  of  death  has  begun  in  his  extremities  ;   when  I 


146  SERMON    II. 

see  that  accomplishment,  and  beauty,  and  loveliness,  devoted 
to  the  decorations  of  dress,  and  bewildered  by  the  pursuit  of 
amusement,  which  might  be  bending  over  the  couch  of  de- 
crepitude and  pain,  and  cheering  the  lonehness  of  unbe- 
friended  poverty,  and  consoling  the  distress  of  helpless  and 
desponding  widowhood,  and  instructing  the  ignorance  of  un- 
protected  orphanage,  and  wiping  the  tear  from  the  cheek  of 
affliction,  and  pointing  the  eye  of  the  expiring  sufferer  to 
the  rest  that  remaineth  for  the  people  of  God  ;  when  I  find 
men  of  intelligence  and  talents,  men  who  can  so  easily  in- 
form  the  mind,  and  interest  the  feelings,  and  captivate  the 
heart ;  when  I  see  them  absorbed  in  the  concerns  of  the 
world,  with  not  a  prayer  to  raise  to  their  Saviour,  not  even 
a  tear  to  shed  over  his  sufferings,  and  apparently  as  unmoved 
and  secure  as  if  they  had  made  a  compromise  with  God  ; 
and  when  I  see  the  poor,  the  humble,  the  illiterate  of  both 
sexes,  looking  up  to  their  superiors,  watching  all  their  move- 
ments, and  moulded,  especially  in  sin,  by  their  examples,  O, 
I  cannot  repress  the  recollection  that  there  is  a  judgment  to 
come,  when  the  rich  and  the  poor  meet  together,  and  when 
God,  in  the  presence  of  an  assembled  universe,  will  verify 
His  declaration,  that  "  to  whom  much  has  been  given,  of  him 
will  much  be  required." 

Felix  trembled.  Felix  was  a  man,  but  the  hardihood  of 
his  character  gave  way.  He  was  an  heathen  ;  he  had  never 
sat  under  the  droppings  of  the  sanctuary, — but  he  had  a  con- 
science. Drusilla  was  a  woman,  but  the  tenderness  of  her 
sex  remained  unmelted.  She  was  a  Jewess.  She  had  been 
cradled  in  the  principles  of  religion,  but  she  heard  the 
preacher  without  emotion,  and  without  remorse.  Felix 
trembled  ;  and  we  learn  in  the  sequel  that  he  sent  the  apostle 
away.  How  inconsistent  is  guilt.  If  he  disbelieved  what 
his  prisoner  said,  why  did  he  tremble  ?  And  if  he  believed 
it,  why  did  he  send  him  away  ?    Because  that  prisoner  had 


PAUL  BEFORE  FELIX.  147 

penetrated  to  the  very  core  of  his  heart ;  he  had  laid  it  open 
to  his  view,  festering  in  all  the  gangrene  rottenness  of  un- 
repented  sin,  and  then  he  had  followed  up  the  alarming  dis- 
closure by  drawing  aside  the  veil  from  the  invisible  world, 
and  revealing  the  Judge  of  quick  and  dead,  armed  with  the 
retributions  of  eternity.  No  wonder  he  should  tremble. 
Here  it  is  that  the  slumbering  conscience  awakes  from  its 
lethargy.  Here  it  begins  to  smother  its  own  remonstrances, 
to  stifle  the  struggling  convictions  of  guilt,  to  dispute  every 
inch  of  ground  with  the  Spirit  of  God.  Here  it  is  that  im- 
penitence begins  to  startle  at  its  own  security.  When  the 
painted  shadows  of  deceit  have  flitted  from  the  world,  and 
left  it  undisguised,  in  all  its  emptiness  and  all  its  deformity, 
the  soul  recoils  from  its  embrace,  and  shudders  at  the  dan- 
gers it  discloses.  How  often  has  this  mysterious  power  of 
conscience  humbled  the  proudest  self-righteousness  into  the 
dust.  How  often  has  it  prostrated  the  hostility  of  the  car- 
nal heart,  and  animated  its  ruins  with  the  activity  of  Chris- 
tian love  !  How  often  has  it  arrested  the  career  of  debauch- 
ery and  vice,  and  led  the  sinner  to  the  Cross  on  which  his 
Saviour  expired  !  Go  to  that  secure  and  contented  moralist, 
who  has  begun  to  feel  the  grasp  of  the  Holy  Spirij;.  Ask 
him  if  he  yet  reposes  on  his  own  merit.  Inquire  if  he  is 
still  clinging  to  the  tranquillity  of  self-righteous  confidence. 
No ;  he  lies  like  a  criminal  at  the  feet  of  Jesus.  He  sobs 
out  the  confession  of  his  guilt,  and  pleads  for  mercy,  and 
mercy  alone.  Follow  the  awakened  worldling  into  the  se- 
clusion of  solitude.  See  him  inventing  expedients  to  drown 
his  reflections.  Hear  that  groan,  which  bursts  through  the 
artificial  gaiety  of  his  appearance,  and  betrays  the  conceal- 
ment of  inward  suffering ;  or,  perhaps,  in  some  moment  of 
thoughtful  solemnity,  when  no  mortal  eye  can  witness  his 
humiliation,  he  bends  his  stubborn  knee,  and  lifts  an  half-re- 
luctant prayer  to  his  Saviour.     Go  to  the  death-bed  of  the 


148  SERMON    II. 

infidel.  What  is  it  that  has  silenced  his  blasphemy  and  pro- 
faneness  ?  What  has  thrown  that  anxious,  and  inquiring, 
and  dissatisfied  look  into  his  dying  eye  ?  What  makes  that 
icy  chill  of  horror  to  shiver  along  his  arteries,  when  he  feels 
that  he  is  going,  and  the  brink  of  eternity  seems  to  break 
under  his  ieet?  This  is  none  other  than  the  majesty  of 
Heaven's  truth  ;  it  is  the  power  of  conscience.  And,  my 
hearers,  could  not  some  of  us,  if  we  would,  attest  the  invin- 
cibility of  its  influence  ?  Could  we  not  tell  of  the  solemn 
hour,  when,  retired  from  the  temptations  of  company  and 
mirth,  some  still  small  voice  has  whispered  in  our  ears,  that 
we  were  born  for  eternity  ?  Could  we  not  tell  of  the  time 
when  the  fresh  grave  of  a  parent  or  a  child,  a  brother  or  a 
sister,  has  sent  forth  the  almost  audible  admonition,  "  Be  ye 
also  ready  ?"  Could  we  not  tell  of  the  hour  when  our  sins 
were  arrayed  against  us ;  when  the  distance  seemed  almost 
annihilated  between  us  and  the  judgment,  and  the  soul 
shrunk  into  the  dust  before  an  holy  God  ?  Could  we  not  tell 
of  some  sermon  that  had  invaded  our  security,  some  solitude 
that  had  witnessed  our  tears,  some  sickness  or  danger  that 
had  recorded  our  resolutions  of  repentance?  And,  perhaps, 
even  while  I  speak  it,  these  recollections  are  rising  before 
us,  and  we  are  urging  them  back,  we  are  forbidding  them  to 
recount  the  promises  we  have  broken,  and  the  mercies  we 
have  abused, — we  are  ascribing  to  animal  weakness  the  un- 
welcome impressions  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  Who  knoweth  but 
some  of  us  are  at  this  very  moment  rallying  all  the  hardi- 
hood of  impenitence  to  crush  the  convictions  of  guilt,  to 
brave  down  the  painful  story  of  our  sins,  to  silence  the  re- 
monstrances of  conscience,  till  we  can  once  more  return  to 
the  world,  and  forget  that  we  were  made  for  immortality  ? 
Felix  trembled,  and  sent  the  apostle  away.  God  only  knows 
whether  he  has  seen  him  since !  Let  us  tremble  j  but — 
You  will  understand  the  rest.     Amen. 


X 


SAVING    FAITH.  149 


SERMON  III. 

"  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God,  hath  the  witness  in  himself." 

1  John  V.  10. 

St.  John,  my  brethren,  was  the  last  of  the  apostles.  Be- 
fore his  death,  which  was  nearly  seventy  years  subsequent 
to  our  Saviour's,  the  infant  Church  was  corrupted  by 
heresies,  to  an  alarming  extent.  On  these  the  venerable 
old  man  had  long  fixed  his  eye.  He  was  anxious  to  coun- 
teract and  arrest  them.  He  saw  how  rapidly  they  were 
spreading.  He  felt  the  solemn  obligations  which  rested 
upon  him  as  the  only  surviving  member  of  the  family  of 
Christ.  With  such  inducements,  t|;jerefore,  he  took  up  his 
pen  in  the  decline  of  life,  and  wrote  the  epistle  from 
which  we  have  selected  our  text.  Among  other  topics  of 
discussion,  we  find  in  the  5th  chapter,  the  subject  of  faith 
introduced.  This  was  the  basis  of  the  Gospel,  the  key-stone 
of  the  arch  ;  if  men  were  right  here,  they  might  with  com- 
parative safety  be  wrong  elsewhere.  But  to  be  radically 
wrong  here,  was  certain  perdition.  Because  St.  Paul  says, 
"  It  is  by  faith  we  are  justified."  And  so  says  St.  John,  in  the 
commencement  of  this  chapter,  "  Whosoever  believeth  that 
Jesus  is  the  Christ,  is  born  of  God."  But  what  does  he 
mean  by  believeth,  which  is  also  a  very  important  word  in 
our  text  ?  Does  he  intend  a  blind  assent  of  the  mind  to 
something  of  which  it  has  no  proof?  No — our  Creator  has 
never  required  us  to  credit  anything,  without  suflScient  rea- 
son ;  and  if  such  a  sentiment  were  found  within  the  lids 
of  the  Bible,  it  would  go  to  prove  more  than  the  strongest 
argument  ever  yet  invented,  that  it  could  not  be  the  word 


150  SERMON  III. 

of  God.  Does  the  apostle  hold  out  the  idea,  that  faith  con- 
sists  in  being  convinced  by  what  are  commonly  called  the 
evidences  of  Christianity  ?  Certainly  not ;  for  to  believe  in 
this  way,  was  required  by  candor  and  common  sense,  no 
less  than  by  religion.  There  were  then,  as  there  have  been 
ever  since,  multitudes  of  such  believers,  who  were  notori- 
ously wicked.  So  that,  although  this  faith  was  necessary 
to  a  pious  man,  it  was  not  peculiar  to  a  pious  man.  And 
besides,  through  the  whole  of  what  St.  John  has  here  spoken 
of  saving  faith,  he  has  not  hinted  at  the  evidencfes  of  Chris- 
tianity external,  internal,  or  collateral.  Instead  of  this, 
he  deems  it  enough  to  affirm,  that  "It  is  the  Spirit  that 
beareth  witness,  because  the  Spirit  is  truth."  "  If,"  says 
he,  "  we  receive  the  witness  of  men,  the  witness  of  God  is 
greater.  He  that  believeth  on  the  Son  of  God,  hath  the 
witness  in  himself."  As  if  he  had  said,  "  we  are  bound, 
undoubtedly,  to  credit  suitable  testimony,  when  coming 
from  men  ;  but  there  is  an  evidence  higher  than  this  :  when 
we  possess  saving  faith  on  the  Son  of  God,  we  shall  have  a 
witness  in  ourselves,  greater  than  any  human  witness  can 
be,  that  Christianity  is  indeed  a  system  of  Divine  truth." 
But  let  us  examine  the  passage  we  have  recited,  more  in 
detail.  Let  us  briefly  consider,  1st,  The  nature  of  saving 
faith— "  He  that  believeth;"  2ndly,  The  object  of  saving 
faith—"  On  the  Son  of  God  ;"  3rdly,  The  particular  con- 
sequence of  this  faith,  which  the  apostle  intends  by  the 
words  "  hath  the  witness  in  himself." 

1st,  The  nature  of  faith.  This  term  strictly  denotes 
only  the  assent  or  persuasion  of  the  understanding.  In 
accuracy  of  language,  the  feelings  which  any  proposi- 
tion excites,  are  entirely  distinct  from  the  act  of  the  mind, 
in  receiving  or  rejecting  it.  Thus,  a  man  may  believe 
something  which  he  dislikes,  as  really  as  something  which 
he   approves.      Nor    does    bare    intellectual    assent    ne- 


SAVING   FAITH.  1^1 

cessarily  involve  the  state  of  the  affections  at  all.  We 
have  already  alluded  to  that  kind  of  faith  which  was 
termed  a  blind  assent.  Let  us  take  an  example  of  this. 
Here  is  a  man  who  has  been  accustomed  to  practise 
and  promote  morality.  If  you  will,  he  has  been  upright  in 
his  dealings,  regular  at  church,  and  respectful  towards  sa- 
cred things.  But  he  has  never  examined  the  evidences  of 
Christianity.  He  assents,  because  others  assent ;  he  has  a 
confused,  indefinite  sort  of  belief,  which  he  has  derived  from 
a  combination  of  circumstances,  such  as  tradition,  educa- 
tion, or  the  society  to  which  he  belongs.  Now,  my  bre- 
thren,  it  would  be  wasting  time  to  prove,  that  this  man 
has  not  a  saving  faith  ;  he  might  rather  inquire  whether  he 
has  any  faith.  For  how  does  his  belief  of  religion  differ  in- 
trinsically from  his  belief  of  some  doubtful  story,  handed 
down  from  his  ancestors,  which  he  credits  on  the  same 
ground,  merely  because  others  do  it?  But  you  will  say, 
the  results  of  the  two  cases  are  not  the  same.  The  one 
makes  him  a  better  man,  the  other  is  indifferent.  Very 
true,  and  if  it  were  morality  instead  of  faith  that  justifies, 
the  argument  would  be  good.  But  we  may  suppose  cir- 
cumstances in  which  a  man's  vices  shall  be  restrained,  and 
his  external  conduct  improved  by  believing  what  is  really 
not  true.  Yet,  who  does  not  see  that  this  can  never  deter- 
mine the  reasons  of  his  belief?  There  is  another  kind  of 
faith,  arising  from  a  process  of  reasoning,  which  receives 
Christianity  after  investigating  its  evidences.  By  this,  we 
acknowledge  the  Bible  to  be  the  word  of  God,  on  the  same 
general  grounds  that  we  admit  any  human  production  to  be 
the  work  of  its  reputed  author.  Now,  waiving  farther  ex- 
planation, let  us  for  a  moment  inquire  whether  this  be  a  sav- 
ing faith.  Observe,  then,  that  if  it  be  a  saving  faith,  the  mass 
of  mankind  have  not  the  means  of  acquiring  it.  There  are 
very  few  who  are  able  to  examine  the  subject  closely  for 


152  SERMON  III. 

themselves — the  rest  believe  on  credit,  which  is,  in  a  greater 
or  less  degree,  a  blind  assent.  Again  :  If  this  be  a  saving 
faith,  who  will  deny  that  evil  spirits  possess  it  ?  St.  James 
assures  us,  that  in  some  sense  they  do  believe  ;  and  indeed, 
it  is  highly  probable  that  they  have  a  knowledge  of  the 
evidences  of  religion,  more  clear  and  minute  than  the  most 
laborious  human  inquirers  can  obtain.  Again  :  If  this  be  a 
saving  faith,  God  has  exacted  of  his  creatures,  as  a  condi- 
tion of  salvation,  that,  and  that  only,  which  does  not  neces- 
sarily affect  either  the  state  of  the  hearts,  or  the  tenor  of 
their  lives  and  conduct.  Again ;  If  this  be  a  saving  faith, 
how  comes  it,  that  multitudes,  and  perhaps  many  in  this 
house,  profess  the  firmest  belief  in  the  sacred  Scriptures, 
and  yet  know  and  acknowledge  that  they  are  not  truly 
pious  ?  Again  :  If  this  be  a  saving  faith,  why  do  the  in- 
spired writers  speak  of  it  as  the  substance  of  things  hoped 
for,  as  working  by  Love — as  purifying  the  heart — as  over- 
coming the  world.  Surely,  the  faith  to  which  we  are  al- 
luding may  be  cherished  without  all  these  appendages.  It 
requires  no  more  exercise  of  hope — no  more  love  to  God — 
no  more  purity  of  heart — to  believe  the  Bible  as  a  matter  of 
fact  and  argument,  than  to  believe  any  other  book  in  the 
same  way.  No,  my  brethren  ;  that  faith  which  the  great 
God,  in  the  economy  of  grace,  has  appointed  as  the  condi- 
tion, or,  more  properly,  as  the  instrument  of  salvation,  is  of 
another  kmd  still.  It  is  a  work  of  the  Spirit  of  Christ  in 
the  sinner's  heart — it  is  the  effect  of  a  supernatural  agency. 
I  know  that  such  a  faith  has  been  called  the  offspring  of 
enthusiasm — an  appeal  to  the  credulity  of  mankind.  I 
know,  too,  that  behind  some  such  pretence  as  a  supernatural 
light,  enthusiasts  and  fanatics  have  generally  taken  refuge. 
But  all  this  proves  nothing  to  the  point.  What  doctrine 
of  Revelation  has  not  been  distorted  and  abused  ?  Where 
shall  we  find  any  thing  valuable  without  its  counterfeit  ? 


SAVING    FAITH.  153 

— where  a  substance  without  its  shadow  ?  If  saving  faith 
be  not  wrought  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  why  do  the  sacred 
Scriptures  assure  us,  that  it  is  the  Holy  Ghost  who  gives  us 
hearts  to  understand,  eyes  to  see,  and  ears  to  hear — who 
bestows  on  us  a  sound  mind  —  opens  the  eyes  of  our  under- 
standings, and  teaches  us  from  the  Father  ?  Why  do  they 
assure  us  so  plainly,  that  faith  is  never  a  meritorious  act  on 
the  part  of  the  Creation,  which  is  plainly  predicated  on  the 
supposition,  that  the  Divine  Spirit  is  concerned  in  implant- 
ing it  ?  Indeed,  my  brethren,  there  is  no  principle  in  the 
sacred  volume  more  distinctly  recognised  than  this.  It  is  the 
citadel  of  gospel  truth ;  and  he  who  can  boldly  deny  that 
"  By  grace  we  are  saved  through  faith,  and  that  not  of  our- 
selves, it  is  the  gift  of  God,"  may  as  well  deny  that  there  is 
such  a  duty  as  faith  required.  After  all,  it  will  be  replied, 
"Admitting  this  representation,  why  is  a  supernatual  agency 
necessary  7  May  not  a  man  truly  and  firmly  believe  with- 
out it ']  And  if  he  may,  M'here  lies  the  distinction  between  a 
common  and  a  Divine  faith  ?"  This  question  has  long  since 
been  answered  by  the  apostle  Paul.  "  The  natural  man," 
says  he,  "receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit  of  God, 
neither  can  he  know  them,  because  they  are  spiritually  dis- 
cerned." It  seems  then,  from  this  passage,  that  the  true 
Christian  receives  the  sacred  Scriptures  in  some  sense  of 
which  the  imregenerate  are  ignorant.  And  it  is  such  a 
spiritual  sense  in  which  he  discerns  and  embraces  the  truths 
of  the  Bible,  that  distinguishes  a  saving  from  a  common  faith. 
This  distinction,  my  brethren,  cannot  well  be  explained 
to  the  satisfaction  of  all.  A  pious  man  will  comprehend  it, 
because,  with  him,  it  is  an  experimental  thing.  But  to  one 
who  is  unregenerate,  although  he  may  admit  that  the  dis- 
tinction  exists,  it  is  impossible  to  convey  an  adequate  view 
of  it,  for  the  same  reason  that  it  is  to  give  to  a  blind  man  an 
idea  of  colors.     It  is  one  of  those  subjects,  of  which,  in  the 


154  SERMON  III. 

nature  of  the  case,  the  mind  can  form  no  just  conceptions. 
There  is,  however,  an  expression  in  St.  John's  gospel, 
which  may  help  us  on  this  point :  "  The  Spirit,"  says  our 
Lord,  "  shall  take  of  mine,  and  shall  show  it  unto  you." 
And  this,  it  appears,  is  enough.  Only  let  the  truths  of  the 
sacred  Scriptures  be  shown  to  us  spiritually,  and  we  receive 
them  of  course.  When  we  see  any  thing  to  be  true,  it  is 
impossible  that  we  should  not  believe  it.  So  also  of  the  af- 
fections. No  man  is  opposed  to  the  character  of  God  after 
a  true  and  spiritual  discernment  of  it.  His  opposition  arises 
from  his  ignorance  of  it ;  for,  when  we  see  any  thing  to  be 
lovely,  we  always  love  it,  just  as  v/hen  we  see  any  thing 
to  be  true,  we  always  believe  it.  And  this  is  evidently  the 
reason  that  the  sacred  writers  have  uniformly  connected 
the  love  of  God  with  saving  faith.  Because  it  is,  strictly 
speaking,  no  part  of  faith — it  must  be  viewed  as  a  distinct 
exercise.  But  they  invariably  go  together.  When  we  be- 
lieve aright,  love  is  a  necessary  consequence.  He  that  has 
no  love,  has  no  faith  ;  and  he  that  has  the  least  love,  does 
actually  possess  saving  faith,  whether  he  know  it  or  not. 
The  Christian  graces  are  inseparably  connected — where 
one  is  wanting,  there  is  none, — and  where  one  is  found,  there 
are  all.  This  is  a  trait  of  Christianity,  for  which,  we  find 
nothing  like  a  parallel  in  any  other  religion  upon  earth. 

"  From  this  great  chain,  whatever  link  you  strike, 
Tenth  or  ten  thousandth,  breaks  the  chain  alike," 

But  it  is  time  to  inquire,  2dly,  What  is  the  object  of 
saving  faith  ?  When  I  look  over  Christendom,  and  see  a 
multitude  of  religious  sects  differing  from  each  other  in  va- 
rious points,  and  each  adhering  to  its  own  peculiarities,  I 
reflect  that  some  or  all  of  these  must  be  adopting  errors.  It 
is  very  natural,  then,  to  inquire.  Can  error  be  the  object  of 
saving  faith  ?  No,  never ;  it  may  exist  vnth  saving  faith, 
but  can  never  be  its  object.    The  root  may  be  sound,  though 


SAVING    FAITH.  155 

the  leaves  and  branches  are  more  or  less  withered.  Not 
that  every  sect,  calling  itself  Christian,  does  in  fact  embrace 
the  fundamental  articles  of  religion,  for  this  would  be  de- 
ciding the  nature  by  knowing  the  name.  But,  doubtless,  it 
is  hypothetically  true,  that  no  one  sect  in  Christendom  may 
be  essentially  wrong,  and  yet  no  one  entirely  right.  There 
is  another  question,  which  has  often  been  asked  by  the  timid 
and  trembling  believer.  Whether  the  object  of  saving  faith 
be  our  own  personal  interest  in  the  promises  ?  This,  too, 
we  answer  in  the  negative.  For  there  are  probably,  in  every 
age,  some  persons  truly  pious,  who  do  not  entertain  a  hope, — 
which  could  not  be  the  case  if  they  must  first  believe  them- 
selves to  be  included  in  the  list  of  the  redeemed.  Besides, 
the  act  of  the  mind  which  believes  is  antecedent  to  that 
which  ascertains  our  interest  in  Christ ;  the  last  only  ex- 
amines the  genuineness  of  the  first ;  the  one  does  something 
which  is  commanded,  the  other  inquires  whether  it  really 
has  done  it  aright.  And  more  than  all,  an  appeal  may  be 
made  to  inspiration.  "  Believe  in  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ," 
is  the  requirement;  not,  "believe  that  you  believe."  The 
whole  tenor  of  the  sacred  Scriptures  inculcates  a  different 
sentiment ;  and  were  it  necessary,  we  could  quote  a  variety  of 
passages  of  the  same  import  with  that  we  have  just  repeated. 
For  instance  :  St.  John  affirms  in  our  text,  "  Whosoever  be- 
lieveth  on  the  Son  of  God,  hath  the  witness  in  himself." 
And  what  is  this  but  to  say,  that  the  only  object  of  that  faith 
which  instrumentally  justifies  the  sinner  in  the  sight  of  God, 
is  the  blessed  Redeemer  ?  We  take  for  granted,  then,  that 
the  Lord  Jesus  Christ  is  the  object  of  saving  faith.  But, 
perhaps,  some  one  is  saying  to  himself,  I  have  heard  all  this 
before,  and  I  believe  it ;  but  yet  I  do  not  definitely  know 
what  is  meant  by  it.  Remember,  then,  my  friends,  that 
without  sincerely  receiving  and  resting  upon  Christ  for  sal- 
vation, God  can  no  more  dispense  a  pardon  for  sin  than  he 


156  SERMON  III. 

can  falsify  his  oath.  And  this  receiving  and  resting  upon 
him  must  be  performed  with  a  view  to  all  his  offices  of 
Prophet^  Priest,  and  King.  When  we  have  an  exhibition 
of  our  own  ignorance,  of  our  total  inability  by  nature  to  form 
proper  conceptions  of  the  character  of  God  ;  when  we  are 
sensible  of  that  darkness  which  shrouds  us  until  the  eyes  of 
our  understandings  are  enlightened  ;  when  we  feel  the  need 
of  light  and  direction,  as  much  as  blind  men  left  without  a 
guide  in  a  pathless  and  boundless  forest, — we  are  prepared 
to  receive  Christ  as  a  prophet,  to  reveal  to  us  the  will  of  God 
for  our  salvation.  When  the  Spirit  of  God  thoroughly  con- 
vinces us  that  we  are  sinners  by  nature  and  by  practice ; 
that  we  have  no  power  to  atone  for  past  guilt,  or  to  yield 
future  obedience  ;  that  our  souls  must  be  bathed  in  the  blood 
of  the  Cross,  or  perish  forever  ;  and  when,  under  this  solemn 
and  affecting  view  of  our  condition,  we  cast  ourselves  over 
on  the  arm  of  sovereign  mercy,  we  receive  Christ  in  the 
character  of  priest,  to  satisfy  divine  justice,  and  reconcile  us 
to  God.  When  we  are  oppressed  with  the  consciousness  of 
our  innumerable  corruptions,  of  our  tendencies  from  holiness, 
and  towards  sin  ;  of  our  weakness  in  conflicting  with  the 
world,  the  flesh,  and  the  devil ;  of  our  necessity  of  some 
being  to  lead,  to  guide,  to  guard,  to  encourage,  to  support 
us ;  when  we  are  thus  induced  to  surrender  all  that  we  are 
to  the  great  Head  of  the  Church,  then  it  is  that  Christ  be- 
comes our  king,  in  subduing  us  to  himself,  in  ruling  and  de- 
fending us,  and  in  restraining  and  conquering  all  his  and 
our  enemies.  And  this,  my  brethren,  is  what  we  mean  when 
we  say  that  Christ  is  the  object  of  saving  faith.  Without 
these  views, — more  strongly  marked,  indeed,  in  some,  and  less 
in  others,  but  without  these  radical  views  of  the  plan  of  sal- 
vation, Jesus  Christ  may  be  the  object  of  that  faith  which 
custom  forbids  us  to  withhold,  or  of  that  which  speculation 


SAVING    FAITH.  157 

and  inquiry  force  us  to  give,  but  he  never  can  be  the  Saviour 
of  our  immortal  souls. 

3dly,  The  apostle  assures  us,  that  he  who  believes  in  a 
saving  manner  hath  the  witness  in  himself.  Not  the  wit- 
ness of  "  the  Spirit  with  his  spirit,  that  he  is  born  of  God  ;" 
for  if  we  read  the  whole  verse,  we  shall  find  that  St.  John 
is  speaking  to  another  point.  "  He  that  believeth,"  says  he, 
*'  on  the  Son  of  God,  hath  the  witness  in  himself ;  he  that 
believeth  not  God  hath  made  him  a  liar,  because  he  believeth 
not  the  record  that  God  gave  of  his  Son."  And  what  is  this 
record  ?  It  is  the  Bible  Is  it  not,  then,  the  meaning  of  the 
writer,  that  he  who  believes  the  Bible  properly,  has  an  as- 
surance from  on  high,  that  it  is  the  word  of  God  ?  Such  be- 
ing, as  we  suppose,  the  import  of  the  passage,  it  is  proper 
to  say  one  word  concerning  the  nature  of  this  assurance. 
As  it  is  not  the  witness  of  the  Spirit  with  our  spirits  that 
we  are  united  to  Christ,  what  kind  of  witness  is  it?  Some, 
perhaps,  will  imagine,  that  it  is  one  and  the  same  thing  with 
faith.  But  this  cannot  be  strictly  true,  because  there  are 
times  when  a  Christian's  faith  is  very  weak,  and  his  hopes 
low  and  expiring,  and  yet  his  belief  of  the  sacred  Scriptures 
will  be  as  strong  as  ever.  We  shall  see,  however,  brethren, 
by  a  moment's  reflection,  that  this  witness,  although  not 
faith  itself,  is  a  necessary  result  from  it.  For  as  long  as  I 
firmly  believe  a  thing,  it  is  plain  there  can  be  no  uncertainty 
respecting  it  in  my  own  mind.  Now,  if  I  believe  the  sacred 
Scriptures  in  a  saving  manner,  and  if  this  belief  be  the  gift 
of  God,  does  it  not  follow,  that  God,  at  the  same  time  that 
He  imparts  the  beHef,  must  also  remove  from  my  mind  all 
uncertainty  respecting  the  sacred  Scriptures, — or,  in  other 
words,  must  give  me  an  assurance  that  they  are  true  ?  And 
here  we  find  an  answer  to  a  celebrated  objection  against 
professors  of  religion.  "  If,"  says  the  objector,  "an  miid^A 
should  be  reasoning  with  a  Christian  against  the  sacred 
8 


158  SERMON  III. 

Scriptures,  and  if  the  Christian  should  be  fairly  beaten  in 
the  argument,  why  does  he  not,  as  an  honest  man,  give  up 
the  Bible,  till  he  can  find  better  grounds  on  which  to  defend 
it  ?"  Because,  my  brethren,  that  Christian  has  the  witness 
in  himself.  No  matter  how  illiterate  he  may  be,  or  how 
easily  puzzled  in  maintaining  his  opinions,  he  cannot  doubt 
what  he  has  been  taught  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  Nor  is  this 
wilful  stubbornness ;  it  arises  from  the  construction  of  the 
human  mind,  and  in  similar  cases  the  result  will  always  be 
the  same.  Suppose,  for  example,  a  person  were  now  to  ap- 
pear, who  should  pretend  to  a  knowledge  of  the  heart ;  sup- 
pose he  were  to  tell  one  of  you  all  the  purposes  you  had 
formed,  all  the  secret  thoughts  and  desires  you  had  cherished 
from  the  cradle,  could  any  arguments,  however  specious,  or 
any  facts,  however  unanswerable,  convince  you  that  this 
man  was  an  impostor  ?  No ;  the  whole  world  could  not  do 
it.  This,  then,  is  one  important  reason  of  the  Christian's 
settled  belief  in  the  sacred  Scriptures.  They  show  him  his 
own  heart,  its  propensities  and  its  guilt ;  they  inform  him 
exactly  what  he  has  been,  and  what  he  now  is ;  they  exhibit 
just  such  a  Saviour  as  he  wants ;  in  a  word,  they  teach  him 
more  about  God,  and  about  himself,  than  he  had  ever  imagin- 
ed  before.  And  all  these  truths,  too,  are  impressed  on  him 
by  the  Holy  Spirit.  No  wonder  he  cannot  doubt.  His 
confidence  is  a  gift  of  the  covenant  of  grace.  It  grows  out 
of  the  nature  of  religious  things,  and  is  fixed  as  the  ever- 
lasting hills.  For  these  reasons,  seconded  by  the  testimony 
of  sacred  Scriptures,  we  lay  down  the  assertion  again,  that 
every  pious  man  has  an  infallible  witness  in  himself  of  the 
truth  of  Christianity.  And  indeed,  brethren,  might  we  not 
presume  beforehand,  that  if  God  designed  to  give  a  revela- 
tion to  His  creatures,  adapted  to  the  capacities  and  conditions 
of  all,  He  would  accompany  it  with  some  such  witness  ?  For 
how  few  men  are  there  who  can,  at  a  moment's  warning. 


SAVING    FAITH.  159 

marshal  the  great  principles  of  reasoning  against  the  objec- 
tions of  sce{>ticism  and  wit  ?  Where  would  be  our  Chris, 
tians,  if  each  of  them  must  be  able  in  subtlety,  argument,  or 
intelligence,  to  contend  with  David  Hume  or  Lord  Shaftes- 
bury ?  No  !  when  we  read  that  God  is  no  respecter  of  per- 
sons ;  that  to  the  poo?'  the  gospel  is  preached,  and  not  merely 
tQ  the  disputers  of  this  world,  it  is  the  dictate  of  common 
sense,  that  this  gospel  must  in  some  way  carry  the  stamp  of 
its  own  divinity  with  it.  Suppose  our  salvation  depended 
upon  believing  the  science  of  astronomy,  can  you  imagine 
that  the  majority  of  men  could  investigate  the  evidences  of 
the  revolution  of  the  earth,  the  fixedness  of  the  sun,  or  any 
similar  truth  ?  If  not,  they  must  either  yield  a  blind  assent, 
or  the  Creator  must  impart  to  this  truth  some  quality  which 
shall  be  in  itself  couy'incing.  Let  us,  tlien,  apply  this  to  the 
subject  of  religion.  Let  us  contemplate  the  actual  construc- 
tion of  society,  and  ask  if,  instead  of  b-^ing  astonished  that 
the  Christian  has  the  witness  in  himself,  we  should  not  rather 
be  astonished  if  God  had  left  him  without  it. 

Thus  much  for  antecedent  probability.  With  this  accords 
the  whole  scope  of  inspiration.  It  is  the  "  Spirit  that  beareth 
"witness,  because  the  Spirit  is  truth."  "  But  ye  have  not  so 
learned  Christ,  if  so  be  that  ye  have  heard  him,  and  been 
taught  by  him,  as  the  truth  is  in  Jesus."  "God  hath  re- 
vealed unto  us  by  His  Spirit  the  things  that  He  hath  prepared 
for  them  that  love  Him."  "It  is  written  in  the  prophets, 
And  they  shall  be  all  taught  of  God."  But  we  need  not 
multiply  proof.  If  our  text  stood  alone  in  the  sacred  volume, 
it  would  remain  eternally  true,  that  "  He  that  believeth  hath 
the  witness  in  himself."  And  what,  my  brethren,  has  ex- 
perience to  say  on  the  point  at  issue?  I  am  pressing  this 
subject  farther,  for  the  use  of  those  with  whom  a  Christian's 
faith,  especially  if  found  in  the  lower  classes  of  society, 
passes  for  enthusiasm  ;  who  stigmatize  him  with  the  name 


160  SERMON  III. 

of  bigot,  fanatic,  adherent  of  the  Church,  and  a  thousand 
other  epithets,  as  foolish  as  they  are  profane  : — just  as  if  the 
joke  of  impiety,  or  the  sneer  of  laughing  ignorance  could 
move  a  Hope  anchored  on  the  Rock  of  Ages. 

We  repeat  it  then, — What  has  experience  to  say  ?  Ex- 
amine the  testimony  of  pious  men  from  the  first  century 
to  this  very  Sabbath.  I  do  not  mean  all  who  have  laid 
claim  to  piety,  but  I  mean  those  who  are  known  by  their 
fruits,  —  men  of  that  cool  and  cautious  character  which  does 
not  affirm  things  at  random, — men,  in  a  word,  whose  asser- 
tion the  boldest  infidelity  dares  not  disbelieve.  Ask  them, 
if  they  have  not,  in  their  own  breasts,  a  witnessof  the  truth 
which  no  enthusiasm  could  occasion  and  no  reasoning  im- 
part ?  They  will  answer  yes.  They  will  say,  that  whatever 
doubts  they  may  have  of  their  personal  piety,  they  are 
never  permitted  deliberately  to  doubt  the  Bible.  And  shall 
their  reiterated  and  overwhelming  testimony  go  for  nothing  ? 
If  it  does,  we  must  abandon  the  common  rules  of  judging, 
and  be  infidels  in  spite  of  ourselves.  Cast  your  eyes  one 
moment  over  the  annals  of  our  religion.  Either  the  wit- 
n:!ss  of  which  we  speak  must  have  been  granted  to  the 
children  of  God,  or  Christian  history  is  an  exhibition  of 
human  nature,  totally  new  and  unheard  of.  Begin  with  the 
apostolic  age,  and  inquire  what  kind  of  evidence  that  must 
be  which  was  sealed  with  so  much  sufferinjr  and  death. 
Behold  the  cells  of  Roman  dungeons,  crowded  with  the  in- 
carcerated disciples  of  Jesus.  Survey  the  preparations  of 
the  wheel,  the  scourge,  the  instrument  of  stifling,  and  every 
refinement  of  torture  which  ingenuity  could  devise.  See 
the  stake  thronged  by  primitive  martyrs,  writhing  amidst 
its  fires.  And  follow  up  the  course  of  events — I  had  almost 
said,  follow  it  by  the  track  of  blood  :  every-where  you  may 
find  the  friends  of  the  Redeemer  hunted  down  with  prices 


SAVING   FAITH.  161 

on  their  heads ;  every-where  you  may  see  Heathen  altars 
covered  and  smoking  with  Christian  holocausts  ;  and  this, 
too,  with  a  cessation  horribly  rare,  from  the  middle  of  the 
first  century  to  the  opening  of  the  fourth,  when  the  fury  of 
the  tempest  was  in  mercy  arrested.  Now,  let  me  ask,  why 
does  that  man,  enfolded  in  flames,  leave  his  dying  testimony 
to  the  truth  of  the  Gospel?  Why  does  another,  with  every 
limb  dislocated,  with  his  eyes  starting  from  their  sockets, 
with  his  nerves  and  arteries  torn  up  by  the  pincers,  with 
weeping,  entreating,  imploring  relatives  around  him, — why 
does  he  persist  in  his  opinions,  and  expire  with  Blessed  he 
God  on  his  lips  1  And  these  men  in  every  other  situation  are 
sober,  judicious,  and  well-informed  men  !  It  is  because  they 
have  the  witness  in  themselves.  Let  it  not  be  retorted 
against  this  reasoning,  that  Pagan  religions,  as  well  as  our 
own,  have  had  their  martyrs.  The  two  cases  are  not  pa- 
rallel. To  die  in  attestation  of  what  we  can  fairly  prove 
to  be  true,  and  to  die  in  attestation  of  what  may  be  fairly 
proved  to  be  false,  are  different  things  ;  for,  in  believing 
something  which  is  really  false,  we  must,  as  to  that  point, 
be  ignorant.  And  hence  it  is,  that  Heathen  martyrdoms, 
(and  we  appeal  to  history  for  what  we  say,)  in  every  country, 
and  every  age,  have  been  owing  to  the  most  deplorable  ig- 
norance. Only  let  the  disciple  of  Juggernaut  be  once  in- 
structed, and  he  never  will  think  of  throwing  himself  under 
the  wheels  of  his  idol.  But  what  instruction  will  you  give 
a  Christian  for  such  a  purpose  ?  Has  not  Christendom  al- 
ways been  the  most  enlightened  portion  of  mankind,  and 
from  it  have  not  Christian  martyrs  been  selected  ?  And 
yet,  with  all  their  light,  all  their  advantages,  all  their  good 
sense,  multitudes  of  the  pious  have  been  compelled,  and  the 
rest  have  held  themselves  ready,  to  seal  their  faith  in  the 
Gospel  with  their  blood.     Is  it  then  remarkable,  to  believe 


162  SERMON  III. 

that  God  communicates  to  such  men  a  supernatural  witness 
of  the  religion  they  embrace  ?  But  we  will  pursue  the 
subject  no  farther. 

My  dear  brethren  :  In  the  truths  which  have  now 
been  announced,  we  have  each  a  personal  and  an  eternal 
concern.  When  I  look  over  this  audience,  and  reflect  on 
the  diversity  of  character  which  it  exhibits, — when  I  ima- 
gine what  a  dreadful  separation  would  ensue,  were  the 
heavens  to  ring  with  the  Archangel's  trump  before  you 
rise  from  those  seats, — I  confess  my  feelings  are  very 
solemn.  Destined,  as  I  probably  am,  to  meet  you  no  more 
till  the  resurrection,  what  shall  I  say  ?  How  shall  I  speak 
to  yon  for  the  last  time?  Would  to  God  I  could  address 
you  all  as  real  Christians.  For  them  every  promise  in  this 
Bible  was  written.  In  their  felicity,  all  the  changes  of  Na- 
ture, all  the  movements  of  Providence,  all  the  exhibitions 
of  grace,  will  finally  result.  Mind  it  not,  then,  disciple  of 
Jesus,  when  the  mistaken^  worldling  shall  brand  you  with 
the  charge  of  credulity.  You  have  here  a  security  against 
delusion — a  witness  in  yourself  which  the  world  can  never 
give,  and,  thanks  be  unto  God  !  can  never  take  away.  Be- 
lieving in  Christ,  you  may  rejoice  with  joy  unspeakable 
and  full  of  glory.  Lift  your  eye  to  the  sceptre  of  mercy, 
and  remember  that  the  first  and  feeblest  exercise  of  Gos- 
pel faith  makes  your  salvation  as  sure  as  if  you  were  now 
in  heaven. 

But  we  must  change  our  language.  Not  to  aggravate 
the  misery  of  the  impenitent.  Ah,  no !  that  cannot  be. 
Were  the  sky  to  open  this  instant,  with  its  descending  Cre- 
ator, you  would  see  that  your  case  can  have  no  coloring  too 
high.  Hear  ye  not  the  voice  of  the  Deity,  "  He  that  be- 
lieveth  not  shall  be  damned"  1  O  !  God  of  mercy,  what  a 
sentence  !  And  yet  will  you  sleep  ?  Have  you  believed  7 
Where,  then,  is  the  witness  in  yourselves?    Can  you  ap- 


SAVING    FAITH.  163 

peal  to  the  Searcher  of  Hearts,  that  you  have  it?  Or 
rather,  can  you  stand  unconcerned  on  the  breaking  brink  of 
eternity,  and  confess  you  have  not  ?  Will  you  dream 
along  till  the  thunders  of  the  judgment  crash  over  your 
heads  ?  Votary  of  fashion  !  lover  of  wealth  !  admirer  of  ge- 
nius !  man  of  the  world ! — who  has  told  you  that  next  Sunday 
you  will  not  be  laid  in  the  dust  ?  And  yet  will  you  sleep  ? 
Go  for  one  hour  into  the  silence  and  solitude  of  the  closet, 
compose  your  feverish  mind,  ponder  on  the  meaning  of  im- 
mortality, call  up  before  you  the  glories  of  heaven,  and 
contrast  them  with  the  agonies  of  final  despair.  And  yet 
will  you  sleep  ?  Follow  that  procession  which  moves  to- 
wards the  hill  of  Calvary.  Yonder  he  is,  driven  on  by  a 
shouting  infuriated  crowd.  He  reaches  the  ground  faint, 
and  bleeding,  and  exhausted.  Unmoved  by  his  sufferings, 
the  executioners  raise  him  up,  and  nail  him  to  the   Cross, 

That  was  your  Saviour.     There  he  hung  for  three  long 

hours  ; — then  the  sword  of  Justice  was  buried  in  his  heart  ; — 
there  he  expired.  Standing  on  that  same  Calvary,  me- 
thinks  the  angel  of  the  everlasting  Gospel  proclaims  this 
day,  in  your  ears,  "  Believe  on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and 
you  shall  be  saved."  And  yet  will  you  sleep? — Can  you 
sleep  ? — Dare  you  sleep  ? 

May  God  add  his  blessing,  for  Christ's  sake.     Amen. 

July  5,  1817. 


164  SERMON    IV. 


SERMON  IV. 

"  We  have  thought  of  Thy  loving  kindness,  O  God,  in  the  midst  of 

Thy  temple." 

Psalms,  xlviii.  9. 

And  where,  my  hearers,  if  not  in  the  temple,  shall  the 
loving  kindness  of  God  awaken  and  employ  our  recollec- 
tions ?  Where  ought  the  hallelujahs  of  praise  to  burst  from 
our  lips,  if  it  be  not  before  the  mercy-seat,  which  embodies 
into  one  view  all  the  magnificent  provisions  of  Divine 
grace,  and  throws  over  the  transientness  of  this  world's 
pleasures,  the  high  and  holy  hopes  of  immortality  ?  I  know, 
indeed,  that  even  here,  we  may  remain  unimpressed.  The 
career  of  thoughtlessness  in  the  human  heart  is  sometimes 
too  impetuous  for  any  place,  however  awful,  or  any  motives, 
however  affecting  to  restrain.  But,  I  also  know,  that  if  we 
could  rouse  ourselves  to-day  from  our  lethargy;  if  we  could 
adapt  our  feelings  at  all  to  the  considerations  which  are 
presented  to  inspire  them  ;  if  we  could  assemble  before  us 
in  their  native  glory,  the  great  and  the  lofty  attributes  of 
the  Godhead,  and  become  absorbed  by  the  presiding  so- 
lemnities of  His  presence,  and  lost  in  the  amazing  displays 
of  His  majesty  and  grandeur  ; — if,  besides  this,  we  could 
appreciate  the  august  and  imposing  character  of  the  pre- 
sent occasion,  and  the  impressive  recollections  it  is  suited 
to  rccal ;  if  we  could  look,  as  now  we  may  look,  at  a 
whole  nation  celebrating  the  day  of  its  hirlh — and  then 
see  one  of  its  greatest  cities  suspending  the  triumphs 
of  the  festival,  to  consecrate  to  Omnipotence  another 
place  for  his  worship — and  then,  while  we  are  doing 
this,  compute  the  immense  interest  which  posterity   may 


OBLIGATIONS   FOR   SPIRITUAL    MERCIES.        165 

have  at  stake  in  the  transaction — and  calculate  how  much 
we  may  now  be  helping  on  those  mighty  instrumentalities 
by  which  God  himself  is  pledged  to  enlighten  and  enrapture 
the  earth  with  the  exhibitions  of  his  glory; — I  say,  if 
with  such  views  we  could  cluster  around  the  altar  of  wor- 
ship, we  should  feel  that  our  proper  business  here  is 
one  general  thanksgiving — and  we  should  lay  aside  for  the 
time,  all  the  littleness  of  our  worldly  wishes,  and  all  the 
frivolity  of  our  worldly  enticements — and  we  should  take 
up  the  resolution  of  the  text,  to  think  of  the  loving  kind- 
ness of  God,  in  the  midst  of  His  temple. 

I  have  not  hinted  at  our  National  Anniversary  for 
the  purpose  of  travelling  back  to  the  events  which  preceded 
and  occasioned  it ;  for  1  hope,  in  heaven,  the  lapse  of  forty- 
three  years  has  blotted  them  from  our  memories.  I  would 
not  willingly  think,  and  much  less  speak,  of  that  gloomy 
period  which  palsied  the  charities  of  a  previous  alliance,  and 
unsheathed  the  sword  of  war,  and  laid  out  for  it  the  work 
of  desolation  and  blood.  But  there  is  one  thing,  which,  at 
such  a  time  as  this,  I  am  compelled  to  do — and  that  is,  to 
thank  my  God  for  the  blessings  which  He  has  poured  so  pro- 
fusely over  the  land  of  my  birth.  I  thank  Him  for  the  splen- 
did success,  which  nearly  half  a  century  has  shed  on  the 
experiment  of  American  Independence.  I  thank  Him  for 
the  institutions  of  that  country,  where  law  is  but  benefi- 
cence, acting  by  rule,  and  comfort  one  of  the  necessaries  of 
life.  I  thank  Him  for  that  Government  which  hangs  out 
the  signal  of  friendship  to  the  exile,  and  throws  around 
him  the  moment  he  touches  our  shores,  the  shelter  of  a  free 
and  equal  constitution.  I  would  not  forego  the  opportunity, 
even  in  the  temple,  of  tendering  my  gratitude  for  mercies 
so  high  ;  and  yet  I  know  not,  but  we  ought  rather  to  drive 
out  our  feelings  from  all  the  localities  of  soil,  and  rejoice  in 
a  consideration  still  more  important ; — rejoice,  I  mean,  that 
8* 


166  SERMON    IV. 

the  olive  branch  has  so  long  budded  on  the  spot  where 
once  it  was  blasted,  and  that  between  two  countries  of 
the  same  origin,  and  language,  and  habits,  and  reciprocat- 
ing so  many  resemblances  of  character  and  policy,  there  is 
resumed  the  attitude  of  amicable  relations.  It  is  true,  in- 
deed, that,  in  the  progress  of  events,  a  cloud  has  once  risen 
and  burst  over  the  cordialities  of  our  peaceful  intercourse ; 
but  it  is  gone,  and  I  hope  it  is  forgotten,  and  I  trust  it  will 
operate  only  like  a  storm  in  the  natural  world,  to  purify  the 
atmosphere  through  which  it  passes.  The  interchange  of 
friendly  feeling  is  once  more  restored.  The  basis  on  which 
it  rested  for  thirty. six  years  without  interruption,  is  again 
established,  and  it  is  a  call  for  our  warmest  thanksgiving, 
that  the  little  period  of  contest  which  has  just  gone  by,  is 
calculated  to  brighten,  rather  than  obscure,  the  prospect  of 
future  harmony.  Nor  is  this  all :  The  single  fact  of  peace 
between  Great  Britain  and  America  is  not  the  only  conso- 
lation we  can  claim.  There  is  one  still  richer  engrafted  on 
the  union  of  their  efforts  in  the  cause  of  Christianity.  They 
have  both  changed  their  employment.  They  have  turned 
aside  from  the  arena  of  conflict,  to  combine  the  tremen- 
dous strength  of  their  moral  resources.  They  have  hidden 
the  sword  in  its  scabbard,  and  taken  up  the  Bible,  to  extend 
and  facilitate,  and  multiply  their  remaining  conquests.  And 
what,  let  me  ask,  what  is  there  glorious  on  earth,  if  it  be 
not  to  see  two  of  its  greatest  and  loftiest  nations  travelling 
hand-in-hand  through  the  rest,  and  leaving  in  their  foot- 
steps the  blessings  of  Christian  hope,  and  proclaiming,  as 
they  move  triumphantly  along,  the  tidings  of  life  and  im- 
mortality, brought  to  light  in  the  Gospel  ? 

But  apart,  my  hearers,  from  these  reflections,  the  great 
weight  of  our  text  falls  directly  on  ourselves.  It  demands 
our  gratitude,  not  only  in  the  temple,  but  for  it — for  the 
presiding  Providence  that  has  erected  these  altars,  before 


OBLIGATIONS    FOR   SPIRITUAL    MERCIES.        167 

which  we  are  now  assembled  to  worship.     I  speak  not  the 
language  of  sectarianism  :  so  far  from  it,  I  wish  on  this  oc- 
casion, to  merge  all  the  attachments  of  private  belief  in  the 
contemplation  alone  of  Catholic  Christianity.     But,  after  I 
have  done  so — after  I  have  trampled  every  sectarian  parti- 
ality under  my  feet,  I  cannot  help  rejoicing,  and  calling  on 
you  to  rejoice,  when  this  or  any  other  city  presents  to  the 
living  God,  a  new  habitation  for  His  holiness.     Do  you  ask 
me  why  ?     Because  such  an  event  tells  us,  that  the  religion 
of  the  Bible  is  gaining  ground  ;  and  because,  when  we  come 
to  open  the  Bible,  we  find  a  morality  the  most  pure,  and  a 
piety  the  most  exalted — and  every  man  is  bound   to  rejoice 
in  the  salutary  influence  which  these   two  considerations 
put  forth  over  community ;  and  in  the  splendid  retinue   of 
benefits  and  blessings,  which  they  lead   along  with  them 
into  every  department  of  life.     I  say,  a  morality  the  most 
pure.     It  were  easy  to  delineate  the  character  of  the  New 
Testament — the  good  feeling  it  has  put  abroad  among  men 
— the  public  charities  it  has  brought  into  being — the  puri- 
fying process  it  has  carried  on  in  the  lower  classes  of  so- 
ciety— the  rescue  it  has  afforded  to  woman   from  that   de- 
basement to  which  heathenism  had  consigned  her — and,  in 
short,  the  collected  blaze  of  light  it   has  poured  over  the 
darkness  it  came  to  irradiate — and  the  vice  and  ignorance 
it  found  to  reclaim — (or  by  inverting  the  picture,  we  might 
discover  the  accumulated  miseries   from   which  it  exempts 
us.     We  might  imagine  that  it  had  never  crushed   the  al- 
tars of  idolatry,  nor  smothered  the  fires  of  human  sacrifice. 
We  might  conceive  that  we  were  now  entombed  in  the  hor- 
rors of  Paganism,  and  that  an  involuntary  cast  had  chained 
us  down  to  despair  ;  and  that  the  Mississippi,  which  rolls  by 
us,  was  the  Burrampooter  or  the  Ganges  ;    and   that    this 
volume  was  the  Shaster,  and  this  holy  place  the  temple   of 
Juggernaut,  strewed  with  the  bones,  and  stained  with  the 


168  '  SERMON  IV. 

blood  of  innocence  !  and  that  on  retiring  to  our  homes,  the 
cry  of  death  should  break  in  on  the  repose  of  our  families, 
and  give  us  the  terrible  warning,  to  furnish  the  funeral  pile 
with  its  victim.  We  might,  I  say,  conceive  all  this ;  and 
we  owe  it  to  the  New  Testament  alone,  that  the  details  of 
reality  are  not  added  to  the  awfulness  of  the  thought.)  But 
I  will  waive  these  considerations  and  compute  only  by  the 
arithmetic  of  our  own  experience.  Suppose  then,  and  God 
knows  how  easily  we  may — that  we  are  surrounded  with  dis- 
ease, and  indigence,  and  misery.  What  are  we  to  do?  Why, 
the  morahty  of  the  Bible  must  come  forward  to  our  aid  ; 
it  must  awaken  the  sympathies  of  public  feeling  ;  and  it 
must  rally  the  energies  of  a  general  benevolence  ;  and  it 
must  send  its  almoners  into  the  place  of  suffering,  with  the 
active  philanthropy  fitted  to  console  it ;  and  it  must  des- 
patch its  agents  through  all  the  extended  empire  of  wretch- 
edness, to  answer  the  demands  of  its  wants,  and  to  cheer 
the  solitude  of  its  degradation.  This,  and  this  alone,  is  the 
way  in  which  the  views  of  enlightened  humanity  can  be 
accomplished.  Suppose,  again,  that  there  be  lurking  in  soci- 
ety, any  given  amount  of  vice,  e.  g.  that  the  Sabbath  is 
violated,  and  the  gaming  table  thronged,  and  the  career  of 
licentiousness  and  debauchery  indulged.  What  is  to  be 
done  now?  What  method  can  the  judicious  spectator  of 
life  devise  for  compassing  the  work  of  reformation  ?  Why, 
my  hearers,  he  must  start  from  the  threshold  with  the  mo- 
rality of  the  Bible.  He  must  build  a  church  of  God  and  as- 
semble in  it  all  the  friends  of  intelligent  virtue,  and  make 
and  keep  them  acquainted  with  each  other.  He  must  give 
them  a  sort  of  weekly  rallying  point  for  their  exertions,  and 
get  them  to  interchange  their  feelings  and  views,  and  to 
back  with  the  phalanx  of  the  whole,  the  well-balanced  ac- 
tivity of  individuals ;  and  when  he  has  done  so,  he  must 
bring  the  prodigious  weight  of  their  collected  character  to 


OBLIGATIONS    FOR    SPIRITUAL    MERCIES.        169 

bear  at  once  upon  any  public  object  which  may  call  for  it ; 
and  who  does  not  see  that  in  this  way  the  gambler,  and  the 
libertine,  and  the  drunkard,  will  be  more  certainly  and  more 
thoroughly  put  down,  than  they  could  be  by  the  bayonets 
of  a  thousand  armies.  I  repeat,  therefore,  that  in  its  moral 
aspect  alone,  the  religious  festival  we  are  celebrating,  de- 
mands our  gratitude ;  and  separated,  if  it  were,  from  every 
other  incitement,  the  duty  of  the  text  is  binding  in  full 
force  upon  us,  to  think  of  the  goodness  of  God,  in  the  house 
of  His  habitation.  But  I  go  further — I  have  said  that  the 
Bible  discloses  a  most  exalted  piety.  It  tells  us  that  we  are 
sinners ;  and  unlike  reason  or  philosophy,  it  does  not  stop 
there ;  it  holds  out  the  offer  of  pardon  ;  it  pours  the  blood 
of  atonement  on  the  fires  of  the  wrath  of  God  ;  it  lays  open 
all  the  lofty  arrangements  of  Divine  grace,  by  which  He  may 
now  be  just,  and  yet,  the  Justifier  of  him  that  believeth  in 
Jesus.  O,  my  brethren,  this  pardon  of  sin,  which  we  so 
often  hear  of,  is  not  imaginary.  It  is  not  the  flourish  of  an 
heated  rhetoric.  It  is,  if  there  be  one  in  Heaven,  or  on 
earth, — it  is  a  real  transaction.  The  sword  of  Justice  just 
leaping  to  bury  itself  in  the  bosom  of  a  lost  world,  has  been 
arrested  by  Jesus  Christ,  and  driven  back  to  itsL  scabbard  ; 
and  to  the  most  fearless  and  abandoned  guilt,  the  Gospel  is 
now  reaching  forth  the  proposals  of  forgiveness,  enforced 
by  all  the  urgencies  of  argument,  and  all  the  tenderness  of 
compassion. 

Here,  then,  it  is  that  I  arrive  at  what  I  mean  by  the  piety 
of  the  Bible.  Here  the  obligation  meets  me  in  all  its  em- 
phasis,  to  think  of  the  loving  kindness  of  God  in  the  midst 
of  His  temple.  Because,  when  I  come  up  to  that  temple, 
I  can  bring  with  me  the  sorrows  of  the  week,  and  get  them 
consoled  and  sanctified.  When  I  come  here,  I  can  learn 
that  my  indigence,  or  my  obscurity,  which  shuts  me  out 
from  men,  does  not  bar  me  from  the  Ckoss  of  a  Saviour. 


170  SERMON    IV. 

When  I  come  here,  I  can  kneel  at  the  foot  of  the  altar  with 
the  anguish  of  a  laboring  conscience,  and  catch,  through  the 
sobs  and  the  prayers  which  implore  it,  the  whisper  of  mercy. 
In  a  word,  when  I  come,  like  a  penitent  prodigal,  into  my 
Father's  house,  I  can  see  Him  exchanging  the  preparations 
of  punishment  for  the  splendors  of  a  festival,  and  instead  of 
the  sentence  of  death,  I  can  hear  Him  sending  through  the 
ranks  of  a  rejoicing  family  the  blessed  intelligence  :  *'  This 
my  son  was  dead,  but  is  alive  again ;  he  was  lost,  but  is 
found  !"     I  am   aware  that  such   things   to   the  levity  of 
worldly  pleasure  will  sound  like  declamation.     But  even 
levity  is  sometimes  convinced.   It  is  not  always  proof  against 
the  overwhelming  power  of  the  Bible.     I  have  known  the 
most  thoughtless  arrested,  and  the  most  towering  humbled; 
I  have  seen  the  hardihood  of  scepticism,  and  the  pride  of 
high-born  beauty,  and  the  long-licensed  dominion  of  indul- 
gence, on  their  knees  at  the  feet  of  Christ.     I  have  been 
where  the  veterans  of  impenitence,  with  hearts  that  never 
felt,  and  lips  that  never  prayed,  and  eyes  that  never  wept, 
have  melted  into  the  docility  of  childhood  around  the  Cross 
on  which  their  Saviour  expired.     And  little  as  we  may  now 
think  of  it,  what  may  we  not  witness  at  some  future  time 
among  ouRelves  ?    Who  can  tell  but  our  God  will  sooner  or 
later  commence   here   the  same   renovating   process,  and 
shower  down  into  our  hearts  the  same  omnipotent  and  re- 
freshing energies  of  His  Spirit  ?   Who  knoweth  but  the  voice 
of  the  Almighty  may  one  day  ring  through  this  very  church, 
and  electrify  every  pew  where  you  are  now  sitting,  with  the 
resistless  mandate,  "  Awake,  thou  that  sleepest,  and  arise 
from  the  dead,  and  Christ  shall  give  thee  light."     Do  not 
call  an  anticipation  like  this  the  dream  of  Utopianism.     It 
may  turn  out  to  be  the  precursor  of  waking  and  sober  reali- 
ty.    Perhaps  we  may  live  to  see,  and,  if  not,  those  who  as- 
semble here  when  we  lie  in  the  dust,  may  see  that  in  rear- 


OBLIGATIONS   FOR   SPIRITUAL   MERCIES.        171 

lag  this  edifice,  the  God  who  presides  in  it  was  only  carry- 
ing on  the  mighty  purposes  of  His  grace,  and  gaining  from 
among  our  future  citizens  and  famiUes  a  new  enlistment  for 
the  eternal  worship  of  His  glory.  x\nd,  my  hearers,  we  need 
not  stop  even  here.  There  is  a  still  loftier  theatre  on  which 
our  conceptions  may  legitimately  range.  Survey  for  a  mo- 
ment the  prospects  of  this  city.  Compute  the  population  it 
mi;st  collect,  and  the  imposing  attitude  it  must  rapidly  as- 
sume. Embody  all  the  ten  thousand  geographical  adjust- 
ments which  mark  it  out  for  greatness.  Think  what  a  com- 
mandino;  influence  it  must  wield  over  the  almost  measureless 
country  which  depends  upon  it ;  and  then  say,  if  its  religi- 
ous character  be  not  of  the  last  importance.  Say  if  every 
church  that  decorates  its  surface  does  not  call  for  gratitude. 
Say,  if  w^e  may  not  expect,  when  the  heart  is  sound  and 
healthful,  that  the  blood  it  propels  through  the  system  will 
partake  of  its  purity.  Ah,  brethren,  this  is  one  of  those 
subjects  which  mock  the  details  of  calculation.  It  rises 
under  our  hands  to  a  magnitude  that  overpowers  us ;  and 
that  man  has  never  travelled  at  all  into  the  conjectures  of 
coming  ages,  who  does  not  feel  that  we  are  entrusted,  in 
some  sort,  with  the  concerns  of  posterity,  and  that  New- 
Orleans  is  a  kind  of  moral  light. house,  on  which,  according 
as  we  now  kindle  or  extinguish  the  proper  fires,  we  may 
wreck  or  we  may  rescue  the  hopes  of  an  unborn  and  count- 
less population.  But,  my  hearers,  I  must  hasten  to  apply 
my  text.  And  yet,  what  can  I  say?  Of  the  loving  kindness 
which  we  so  eminently  share,  I  am  sure  we  cannot  but 
think  :  and  wj^at  other  duty  does  the  passage  impose? 
I  know  of  but  one  :  and  that  is,  that  we  should  not  think  of 
ourselves  alone.  On  the  transactions  of  this  day  the  whole 
Church  of  Christ  is  looking,  and  it  is  right  we  should  cherish 
a  reciprocal  solicitude  for  her  welfare  and  her  success.  No, 
I  do  not  mean  solicitude ;  blessed  be  God,  she  has  gone  too 


172  SERMON  IV. 

far  for  that.  She  has  palsied  too  many  arms,  and  won  too 
many  triumphs,  to  allow  a  single  anxiety  for  the  issue. 
Have  you  ever  heard,  my  brethren,  of  the  names  of  Nero 
and  Dioclesian  ?  Have  you  forgotten  when  Christendom 
was  filled  with  the  eagles  of  the  Roman  empire  ?  Do  you 
recollect  the  day  when  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean 
were  inundated  by  the  Pagan  barbarism  of  the  Goths  ?  Do 
you  remember  the  conspiracy  which  was  gotten  up  in  the 
last  age  among  the  German  states,  and  that,  too,  with  im- 
perial power  at  the  head  of  it,  to  demolish  the  throne  of 
Jesus  Christ?  And  where,  all  this  time,  was  the  Church  ? 
Why,  she  went  on  her  way  rejoicing.  She  walked  steadily 
forward  in  the  light  of  her  own  magnificence  and  glory. 
She  dashed  aside  the  artillery  which  was  aimed  at  her  life, 
and  through  the  very  columns  that  were  sent  to  oppose  her, 
she  opened  her  splendid  path  to  the  dominion  of  the  civilized 
world.  It  is  not,  therefore,  with  a  feeling  of  solicitude,  but 
of  exultation,  that  we  may  regard  the  prospects  before  her. 
She  is  sure  of  victory,  for  the  Lord  her  God  in  the  midst  of 
her  is  mighty.  She  has  not  lived  so  long  to  be  finally  de- 
stroyed. She  has  not  mocked  at  the  opposition  of  eighteen 
centuries,  to  be  at  last  stripped  of  her  laurels,  and  beggared 
into  terms.  Were  I  speaking  as  a  man,  I  would  say  Chris- 
tianity must  triumph  ;  because  she  has  enlisted  the  affec- 
tions of  all  who  know  her  :  she  has  wiped  the  tear  from 
the  cheek  of  sorrow,  and  soothed  the  sobbing  bosom  of  be- 
reavement :  she  has  built  poor-houses  for  want,  hospitals 
for  sickness,  and  asylums  for  widowhood  and  orphanage. 
Were  I  speaking  as  a  philosopher,  I  would  say  Christianity 
must  triumph  ;  because  she  has  pressed  into  her  service 
the  most  powerful  principles  of  human  nature  :  the  array 
of  all  the  moral  and  religious  feeling  in  community  is  mar- 
shalled on  her  side  :  she  can  arm  herself  at  a  moment's  warn- 
ing, with  an  intelligence  which  no  stratagem  can  decoy,  and 


OBLIGATIONS    FOR    SPIRITUAL   MERCIES.         173 

a  friendship  which  no  threats  can  enfeeble  or  alarm.  Were 
I  speaking  as  a  Christian,  I  would  say  Christianity  must 
triumph  ;  because  the  promise  of  God  leads  her  onward  :  she 
is  sheltered  by  the  protection  of  Omnipotence  :  she  has 
begun  her  colossal  march,  and  the  man  who  dares  to  throw 
himself  before  it  will  inevitably  be  crushed  to  atoms  :  she 
has  carried  the  intrenchments  of  infidelity,  and  swept  away 
its  pride,  and  she  will  do  it  again ;  and  I  would  sooner,  far 
sooner,  bare  my  bosom  to  the  lightnings  of  heaven,  than  lay 
a  single  finger  on  the  Church,  to  arrest  the  career  of  her 
destinies.  The  truth  is,  there  is  a  "  time  set  to  favor  Zion," 
and  unless  God  Himself  be  dethroned,  that  "  time  must 
come ;" — Christianity  has  buckled  on  her  armor,  and  chal- 
lenged the  conflict.  The  altars  of  Paganism  are  crumbling 
to  dust.  Idolatry,  gorged  and  glutted  with  blood,  is  halting 
in  its  havoc.  The  war-whoop  is  dying  away  through  the 
wilderness.  The  sentinels  on  the  walls  of  Jerusalem  are 
waking  from  their  slumbers.  The  Everlasting  Gospel  is 
pressing  forward  with  the  banners  of  the  Cross,  and  the  joy- 
ful Church,  standing  on  the  field  she  has  won,  is  shouting 
Victory.  This  day,  my  hearers,  we  are  called  to  swell  her 
triumph.  This  day,  let  us  hail  the  majestic  and  animating 
scene,  and  think  of  the  loving  kindness  of  God  in  the  midst 
of  His  temple.  Already  is  the  twilight  of  millenial  glory 
breaking  through  the  skies.  The  jubilee  is  begun.  The 
signals  are  out.  The  trumpet  has  sounded  ;  and  the  anthem 
of  ten  thousand  voices  is  already  thundering  through  the 
earth.  Hallelujah, — for  the  kingdoms  of  this  world  are  become 
the  kingdoms  of  our  Lord,  and  of  His  Christ,  and  He  shall 
reign  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen. 


174  SERMON     V. 


SERMON  V. 

"  And  he  said  unto  them,  Neither  tell  I  you  by  what  authority  I  do 

these  things." 

Matthew,  xii,,  27. 

The  incident  with  which  these  words  are  connected,  oc- 
curred soon  after  our  Saviour  appeared  in  the  character  of 
a  public  man.  It  seems  he  was  teaching  in  the  temple  at 
Jerusalem.  The  chief  priests  and  elders,  deeming  them- 
selves the  rightful  proprietors  of  every  religious  establish- 
ment, and,  more  than  all,  apprehensive  that  their  own  in- 
fluence and  interests  would  be  jeoparded  by  his  increasing 
popularity,  assembled  in  a  body,  and  demanded  of  him  the 
authority  by  which  he  acted.  This  inquiry  would  not  have 
been  stamped  with  so  much  malice  and  effrontery,  but  that 
they^had  witnessed  his  miracles, — a  circumstance  which 
ought  to  have  silenced  them  forever,  because  they  unani- 
mously admitted,  and,  to  this  day,  it  is  a  standing  maxim 
of  the  Jewish  Talmuds  and  Tarquins,  that  when  a  miracle 
can  once  be  proved,  it  establishes  the  collateral  approbation 
of  Heaven  towards  the  individual  by  whom  it  is  wrought. 
In  the  case  under  discussion,  our  Saviour  thought  proper  to 
answer  the  question  proposed  by  the  Jewish  doctors,  by  re- 
torting another ;  and  that  was,  whether  John  the  Baptist  was 
authorised  to  preach  or  not, — whether  he  had  acted  under 
the  authority  of  God,  or  assumed  his  office  from  mere 
worldly  views,  or  sinister  motives  ?  This  was  a  point  which 
the  chief  priests  found  extremely  perplexing.  The  fact 
was,  that  John  had  predicted  Jesus  Christ,  and  uniformly 
acknowledged  his  divinity.  But,  instead  of  receiving  his 
doctrines,  they  had  treated   him  with  sovereign  contempt. 


ON   OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  CHRISTIANITY.       175 

Now,  if,  after  all  this,  they  should  confess  that  he  had  been  a 
divine  teacher,  they  would  betray  the  most  palpable  incon- 
sistency ;  for  it  would  be  immediately  asked,  why  they  had 
not  respected  and  believed  him.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
dilemma  was  no  less  vexatious.  If  they  were  openly  to 
say  that  he  had  not  been  inspired,  but  had  imposed  upon 
the  people,  and  was  not  entitled  to  confidence,  they  knew 
that  such  an  avowal  would  excite  the  public  indignation, 
for  the  great  mass  of  community  were  persuaded  that  he 
was  a  prophet,  and  were  accustomed,  especially  after  he 
was  beheaded,  to  revere  his  instructions.  Here,  therefore, 
these  self-created  judges  were  taken  in  their  own  craftiness. 
They  found  themselves  completely  distanced  ;  of  the  two 
only  alternatives  which  were  presented,  the  one  would  im- 
peach their  character  for  duplicity  and  guilt,  the  other 
would  destroy  their  popularity,  and  perhaps  endanger  their 
lives.  Reduced  to  this  unexpected  embarrassment,  they 
finally  saw  that  further  evasion  would  do  them  no  good, 
and  acknowledged  that  they  could  not  tell  whether  the 
Baptist  was  a  pious  man  or  not.  With  all  their  sagacity 
and  artifice,  and  wisdom,  they  found  themselves  at  a  dead 
stand  on  one  of  the  simplest  questions ;  and  that,  too,  at 
the  very  moment  when  they  were  attempting  to  invali- 
date the  truth  of  Christianity,  by  stating  difficulties  and 
objections  which  they  presumed  it  impossible  to  surmount. 
Our  Lord  closes  the  whole  conversation  with  the  very  ap- 
propriate words  of  the  text :  "  Neither  tell  1  you  by  what 
authority  I  do  these  things." 

My  brethren,  the  sentiment  suggested  by  this  passage, 
viewed  in  connexion  with  the  history  we  have  just  laid 
open,  appears,  on  the  whole,  to  be  this  :  that  the  great 
objections  alleged  against  religion,  are  found  in  every  de- 
partment of  life,  and  may  be  retorted  against  those  who 
urge  them  so  as  to  silence  their  cavils ;  and  that  no  Chris- 


176  SERMON    V. 

tian  is  bound  to  clear  up  all  the  difficulties  attending  the 
doctrines  of  the  sacred  Scriptures,  any  more  than  the  man  of 
the  world  is  to  explain  all  the  phenomena  of  Nature,  or 
all  the  occurrences  of  Providence.  To  a  spirit  of  fair 
and  honest  inquiry,  for  the  elucidation  of  any  doubt,  or 
the  removal  of  any  difficulties,  our  Saviour  would  not 
have  repHed  as  he  did,  to  the  persons  who  received  the 
laconic  answer  of  the  text.  He  would  have  reasoned 
as  was  his  invariable  custom  in  such  cases,  on  the  equi- 
vocal or  obscure  points  of  his  doctrine,  in  order  that  timid 
minds  might  not  stumble  over  the  apparent  inconsisten- 
cies which  they  imagined  he  was  teaching.  He  would  have 
condescended,  as  he  often  did,  and  as  the  apostles  and 
evangelists  did  after  him,  to  the  meanest  grade  of  human 
weakness,  for  declaring,  explaining,  and  enforcing  the  truths 
of  that  Gospel  which  was  bringing  life  and  immortality 
to  light.  But  when  questions  were  asked  him  merely 
for  the  sake  of  perplexing  his  mind,  and  of  triumphing 
over  his  confusion  and  embarrassment, — asked,  too,  with 
a  temper  which  pre-supposed  that  victory,  not  truth,  was 
the  object  to  be  gained,  he  deemed  it  proper  to  answer 
a  fool  according  to  his  folly  ;  or,  in  other  words,  to  retort 
upon  his  enemies  some  inquiries  which  should  reduce 
them  to  the  same  nonplus  in  which  they  were  so  anxious 
that  he  should  be  caught. 

And,  my  brethren,  the  Lord  Jesus  was  not  alone  in  being 
attacked  by  the  petulant  and  unphilosophical  objections  of 
little  minds.  His  ministers  and  his  people,  in  every  age,  have 
been  placed  in  the  same  circumstances — have  been  chal- 
lenged to  the  same  field  of  controversy  by  the  same  kind 
of  self-conceited  champions ;  and,  therefore,  have  a  most 
unquestionable  right  to  despatch  the  whole  argument  by 
the  same  short  process  of  which  the  great  Head  of  the 
Church  has  left  them  an  example,  in   the    words  of  the 


ON  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST    CHRISTIANITY.       177 

text.  Let  us  exemplify  these  remarks.  Every  man  at  all 
acquainted  with  the  world,  has  heard  the  most  import- 
ant  truths  of  revelation  ridiculed  or  opposed  from  the  fan- 
cied impossibility  of  reconciling  them  with  the  character  of 
God,  with  human  reason,  or  with  the  actual  condition 
of  mankind.  These  separate  charges  have  been  made  par- 
ticularly in  regard  to  the  Origin  of  Evil, — the  Doctrine  of 
the  Trinity, — Salvation  by  Grace, — the  Foreknowledge  of 
the  Deity, — and  Future  Punishments.  Adopting  the  lan- 
guage of  an  objector,  let  us  begin  with  the  Origin  of  Evil. 
Moses  opens  the  Pentateuch  with  a  long  history  of  the 
fall  of  man.  He  tells  us  that  our  first  parents  were  cre- 
ated holy  and  innocent.  They  were  then  placed  in  a 
garden,  where,  without  any  assignable  cause,  a  prohibi- 
tion was  issued  debarring  them  from  the  fruit  of  one  par- 
ticular tree.  Like  sheer  idiots,  however,  they  ate  of  that 
tree,  when  there  was  an  abundance  of  others  for  their  use  ; 
and  when  they  knew  that  the  curse  of  God  would  rest  on 
their  conduct.  From  this  period,  their  Creator,  who  might 
have  prevented  the  whole,  drove  them  from  the  garden  ; 
doomed  them  to  labor  and  suffering  ;  and,  not  content  still, 
he  subjected  all  their  posterity  to  pain,  and  labor,  and  death. 
And  methinks  the  objector  would  close  his  wise  remarks 
by  exclaiming,  "  What  a  fine  story  to  toll  of  a  pure,  perfect, 
and  benevolent  Deity !" 

Now,  my  brethren,  we,  who  profess  to  believe  this  story, 
are  called  upon  every  day  to  make  it  clear  and  intelligible — 
to  divest  it  of  every  thing  for  which  we  cannot  give  a  rea- 
son— and  to  reconcile  it  with  our  own  short-sighted  views 
of  propriety.  Instead,  however,  of  directly  complying 
with  the  requisition,  let  us  see,  for  a  moment,  what  we  should 
gain  by  setting  Moses  aside.  We  certainly  do  find  man,  in 
some  cases,  sinful — this  will  be  admitted  on  all  hands  ;  for 
how  else  shall  we  account  for  the  crimes^  the  excesses,  the 


178  SERMON    V. 

abominations,  which  every  succeeding  day  is  unfolding  1 
and  in  what  way  can  we  make  these  melancholy  facts  to 
quadrate  with  the  perfections  of  God  ?  Had  not  the  Om- 
nipotent Being  of  the  universe  power  to  prevent  the  wick* 
edness  by  which  our  world  has  been  cursed  ?  Again  :  Look 
through  the  earth  :  we  shall  find,  not  suffering  alone,  but  the 
severest  suffering  of  innocence  and  virtue — we  shall  see  the 
great  mass  of  every  community  compelled  to  earn  their  sub- 
sistence by  the  sweat  of  the  brow — we  shall  behold  Death 
reigning  with  indisputable  sway — invading  the  peace  of 
families,  and  peopling  the  realms  of  mortality  with  the  tro. 
phies  of  his  triumph,  without  regard  to  age,  or  character, 
or  rank.  All  this  we  know,  independently  of  the  Bible. 
Let  me  ask,  then.  Why  shall  we  find  fault  with  the  history 
of  the  fall  in  the  Pentateuch  ?  It  teaches  us  that  man  was 
made  holy,  and  apostatized  from  God.  Common  experience 
cannot  tell  us  that  he  was  once  holy  ;  but  it  can  and  does  tell 
us  that  he  is  not  so  now.  Moses  teaches  us  that  man  was 
driven  from  Paradise,  and  condemned  to  labor  and  pain.  Ex- 
perience  does  not  say  that  he  was  ever  in  Paradise ;  but  it  at- 
tests too  well  his  condemnation  to  labor  and  pain.  The  Bi- 
ble asserts  that,  in  consequence  of  Adam's  sin,  his  posteri- 
ty were  doomed  to  suffering  and  death.  Experience,  in- 
deed, knows  nothing  of  Adam  ;  but  it  proves,  and  that,  too, 
without  giving  any  reason  for  the  fact,  that  the  first  man, 
whoever  he  might  have  been,  is  dead,  and  that  his  posterity 
have  suffered,  and  have  died,  through  every  successive  gene- 
ration. 

Now,  T  should  like  that  some  of  the  carping  enemies  of  Re- 
velation should  furnish  some  reason  for  these  three  things. 
They  are  not  discovered  by  the  light  of  the  sacred  Scriptures 
— they  have  nothing  to  do  with  the  sacred  Scriptures.  They 
are  those  every-day  occurrences,  which  no  man  in  his  senses 
can  deny.    Why  is  it,  that  men  are  wicked  when  God  might 


ON  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST    CHRISTIANITY.       179 

have  ordered  it  otherwise  ?  Why  is  there  so  much  distress  in 
society,  when  God  might  have  animated  every  heart  with 
unmingled  joy  ?  Why  are  we  all,  even  infants,  subject  to 
death,  when  God  might  have  destined  us  to  an  earthly  im- 
mortahty  ?  Can  our  enhghtened  philosophers,  who  are  too 
wise  to  believe  the  believer,  afford  a  satisfactory  explana- 
tion of  these  mysterious  events  ?  Neither  tell  I  them,  nor 
is  any  believer  of  inspiration  bound  to  tell  them,  why  God 
permitted  the  fall — why  he  punished  it  afterwards — or  why, 
in  the  language  of  the  Westminster  Assembly,  all  man- 
kind, descending  from  Adam,  by  natural  generation,  have 
sinned  in  him,  and  fallen  with  him  in  his  first  transgres- 
sion. 

But  let  us  glance  at  another  subject,  to  which  we  have 
alluded.  I  mean  the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  The  Chris- 
tian world  is  accustomed  to  believe,  that  the  Deity  exists 
in  three  persons  and  one  essence.  Before  I  proceed,  how- 
ever, I  would  remark,  that  I  have  never  been  satisfied  with 
the  word  persons  to  express  the  idea  intended  to  be  convey, 
ed.  Person,  in  our  language,  is  commonly  significant  of 
distinct  and  separate  existence-  Among  the  Greeks  and 
Latins,  it  was  not  so.  They  only  meant  by  it,  that  distinct 
existence  and  separate  exercise  of  modes,  attributes,  and 
offices,  which  should  harmonize  at  the  same  time  with  strict 
indivisibility  and  oneness  of  being.  And  recollect,  my 
hearers,  that  their  vocabularies  had  provided  a  word  for 
this  idea  long  before  the  Christian  religion  was  known. 
With  this  explanation,  then,  we  firmly  beheve  the  Doctrine 
of  the  Trinity.  But  the  caviller  may  reply,  "  This  is  ab- 
surd— it  is  contrary  to  reason."  To  say  there  are  three 
persons  in  one  God,  will  amount,  after  all,  to  the  same 
thing,  as  to  say,  there  are  three  Gods.  And  it  does  not  re- 
lieve the  difficulty  to  allege,  that  by  person  it  is  not  intend- 
ed to  communicate  the  idea  of  a  distinct  Being ;  for  the 


180  SERMON    V. 

mind  can  form  no  conception  of  modal  existence  ;  there  ia 
no  possible  analogy  for  it  in  nature  ;  and  besides,  the  phrase- 
ology  appears  to  have  been  adopted  merely  for  the  sake  of 
evading  the  charge  of  inconsistency  and  contradiction.  So 
much,  brethren,  for  objections.  Without  attempting  to 
disprove  them,  I  simply  observe  :  that  if  Philosophy  has 
ever  taught  a  single  truth  which  cannot  be  shaken,  it  is, 
that  we  should  inquire  in  religious  things,  not  what  is  ra- 
tional and  what  is  not,  but  what  is  revealed,  and  what  is 
not ;  for  we  may  be  assured,  no  absurdity  ever  made  a  part 
of  Divine  revelation.  But  to  return  :  it  is  said  that  to  be  three 
and  one  at  the  same  time,  in  any  sense,  is  impossible.  Per- 
haps  not,  my  brethren.  Perhaps  every  man  may  find  in  the 
structure  of  his  own  mind  a  refutation  of  that  sophistry.  For 
what  is  mind  ?  It  is  a  something  composed  of  reason, 
memory,  and  imagination— three  powers  plainly  distin- 
guished from  each  other.  Yet,  does  it  follow,  that  each  in- 
dividual has  three  minds  ?  This  is  no  logomachy.  Deny, 
who  can.  At  all  events,  Mr.  Locke,  Mr.  Stewart,  Mr. 
Reid,  have  not  denied,  that  each  one  of  these  powers  is  es- 
sentially necessary  to  the  existence  of  the  others,  and  yet 
perfectly  distinct  from  both.  In  some  sense,  then,  three  may 
be  one,  and  one  three ;  that  they  are  ever  so  in  the  same 
sense,  nobody  has  said,  and  nobody  believes.  And  here,  the 
opposer  is  not  on  his  own  ground  ;  he  unblushingly  charges 
absurdity  on  religion  ;  while,  if  he  has  the  least  candor,  he 
finds  the  same  absurdity  in  his  own  breast,  and  is  utterly 
unable  to  get  over  it.  But  in  reply  to  all  this,  it  may  be 
said,  as  it  often  has  been,  that  the  Doctrine  of  a  Trinity 
is  incomprehensible — and  that  God  cannot  require  his  crea- 
tures to  believe  what  they  cannot  understand.  Be  it  so  ; 
but  recollect,  that  by  the  rules  of  logic,  that  which  proves 
too  much,  proves  nothing  at  all.  And  let  me  ask,  is  there 
nothing  out  of  the  enclosure  of  revelation  which  is  incom- 


ON  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST    CHRISTIANITY.       181 

prehensible  ?  Let  us  test  the  case  :  A  certain  class  of 
Atheists  will  tell  us  the  world  is  eternal.  What  think  we 
of  something  existing  which  did  not  begin  to  exist ;  neither 
older  now  than  it  ever  was,  nor  younger  now  than  it  ever 
will  be  ?  A  Deist  will  confess  that  God  is  omnipresent. 
What  think  we  of  a  Being  who  is  everywhere  at  the 
same  time,  and  neither  a  part  in  one  place,  and  a  part  in 
another,  nor  a  whole  in  any  place  ?  But  why  do  we  multi- 
ply examples  !  The  truth  is,  the  human  mind  was  not 
formed  for  investigating  first  principles.  I  cannot  tell  what 
moves  my  finger.  It  is  true,  indeed,  that  it  is  owing  to  an 
operation  of  the  will;  but  why  that  will,  which  is  immate- 
rial, should  move  my  own  body,  naturally  motionless  mat- 
ter, any  more  than  some  other  substance,  is  a  question 
which  can  never  be  solved.  Now,  to  recur  to  the  objector  : 
He  ridicules  the  idea,  that  the  Godhead  includes  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  Ghost,  and  demands  of  Christians  to  explain 
the  mystery.  But  can  he  explain  the  nature  of  the  mind — 
the  attributes  of  the  sacred  Being — or  even  the  motion  of  his 
own  frame?  Neither  tell  we  him  in  what  way, according  to 
the  confession  of  faith,  there  can  be  in  unity  of  the  God- 
head, three  persons  of  one  substance,  power,  and  eternity. 

On  some  future  occasion,  with  the  leave  of  Providence, 
we  shall  consider  the  remaining  articles  proposed  to  be  ex- 
amined by  the  light  of  our  text,  viz  :  Salvation  by  Grace, 
the  Fore-knowledge  of  the  Deity,  and  Future  Punishments. 
For  the  present,  let  a  single  brief  reflection  suffice.  It  is  this  : 
The  sacred  Scriptures,  although  written  by  none  of  the  cau- 
tious and  Argus-eyed  men  of  this  world,  have  recorded  no 
fact  which  history  has  not  more  or  less  verified,  and  have 
announced  no  doctrine  which  genuine  philosophy  will  not 
tend  to  confirm  and  establish.  We  have  seen  every  possi- 
ble effort  made— we  have  seen  the  whole  parades  of  objec- 
tions, difficulties,  and  scruples — we  have  seen,  in  every  age, 
9 


184  SERMON   VI. 

at  least,  to  shield  themselves  from  a  charge  like  that,  be- 
cause we  all  know  that  when  men  do  wrong,  their  first  ob- 
ject is  to  hunt  up  an  excuse  for  themselves  ;  but  they  could 
not  open  their  lips, — they  were  perfectly  confounded, — and 
I  presume  would  have  been  very  glad  to  have  recalled  the 
whole  conversation.  But  Jesus  Christ  did  not  let  them  go 
till  he  had  administered  to  them  the  salutary  reproof  of  the 
text :  "  Neither  tell  I  you  by  what  authority  I  do  these 
things." 

The  sentiment  which  I  deduce  from  this  reply  may 
be  expressed  in  a  very  few  words.  It  is,  that  the  objec- 
tions most  commonly  urged  against  religion,  apply  equal- 
ly to  many  other  subjects  ;  and  that  the  censorious  caviller, 
who  is  most  fond  of  charging  absurdities  upon  Christianity, 
has  no  right  to  any  other  answer  than  that  which  the  Jews 
received  from  Jesus  Christ.  By  this  simple  standard  we 
have  already  considered  the  Mosaic  history  of  the  Fall,  and 
the  Doctrine  of  the  Trinity.  The  next  topic  in  order  is  that 
of  Salvation  by  Grace,  against  which  the  carnal  heart  has 
ever  been  so  active  in  contending.  It  is  a  first  principle  of 
Evangelical  Truth,  that  our  affections  are  naturally  de- 
praved, and  that  we  have  in  ourselves  neither  the  disposi- 
tion nor  the  power  to  comply  with  the  requisitions  of  the 
Gospel.  What,  then,  can  be  done  ?  If  there  be  no  merit 
in  our  prayers,  our  tears,  our  sorrows, — if  even  the  first-born 
of  our  bodies  would  be  no  expiation  for  the  sins  of  the  soul, 
— how  are  we  to  escape  from  our  situation  ?  To  these  ques- 
tions the  volume  of  truth  replies  that  every  thing  connected 
with  our  salvation  is  at  the  sovereign  disposal  of  a  just  and 
holy  God.  It  is  Ilis  power  alone  that  inspires  proper  views 
and  sentiments  within  us,  and  on  Him  we  are  dependent  for 
all  those  exercises  which  are  acceptable  in  His  sight.  My 
brethren,  is  there  no  heart  present  which  is  ready,  this  mo- 
ment, to  exclaim,  "  How,  then,  can  I  be  guilty  for  not  cher- 


/ 

ON   OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  CHRISTIANITY.       185 

ishing  feelings  which  God  alone  can  impart  ?"  But  stop, 
my  friend ;  before  you  shelter  yourself  behind  apologies  like 
that,  we  had  better  inquire  whether  this  formidable  difficul- 
ty does  not  exist  in  every  department  of  life,  as  well  as  in 
religion  ?  Look  a  moment  into  your  private  concerns. 
You  are  engaged  in  the  acquisition  of  wealth ;  your  plans 
are  devised  with  caution,  and  executed  with  promptness  and 
energy.  But  suppose  that,  in  spite  of  all  this,  a  frost  should 
blight  your  crops — or  a  fire  consume  your  dwellings — or  a 
wind  sink  your  ships, — events  which  have  often  occurred 
with  regard  to  others, — would  you  not  be  willing  to  acknow- 
ledge the  sovereignty  of  God  ?  Would  you  not  consent  to 
affirm  of  agricultural,  or  mercantile,  or  professional  life,  the 
very  same  which  the  sacred  Scriptures  affirm  of  religion — 
**  that  Paul  may  plant,  and  apostles  water,  but,  God  must 
give  the  increase  ?"  I  ask  you,  when  you  have  seen  young 
men  of  enterprise  and  character  ruined  by  some  unexpected 
misfortune  in  business — when  you  have  known  premature 
insanity  to  seize  and  prostrate  the  most  promising  genius, 
and  the  most  vigorous  mind — or  when,  by  one  of  those  tre- 
mendous dispensations  which  we  are  sometimes  called  to  de- 
plore, a  whole  neighborhood  or  community  are  beggared  at 
a  blow — deprived  of  the  means  of  subsistence,  and  com- 
pelled to  seek  the  support  of  life  from  the  hands  of  foreign 
charity,  have  you  not  confessed  that  the  blessings  of  Hea- 
ven are  not  always  secured  by  exertion  or  merit  ?  Sit 
down,  then,  and  deliberately  contemplate  these  events. 
You  will  find  yourself  sufficiently  occupied  in  explaining 
them,  without  entering  the  pale  of  Revelation,  and  erecting 
your  breastworks  against  the  doctrines  which  it  announces. 
To  all  this  I  anticipate  a  reply,  that,  as  in  the  pursuits  of  bu- 
siness it  is  requisite  only  to  do  all  we  can,  and  trust  to  Provi- 
dence, or,  as  it  is  frequently  called,  chance,  for  the  result, 
so  in  the  concerns  of  the  soul,  the  utmost  in  our  power  is  the 


186  SERMON   VI. 

use  of  the  appointed  means.  I  admit  the  reasoning  ;  and, 
without  farther  circumlocution,  let  us  bring  the  question  to 
issue.  When  you  have  any  favorite  commercial  object  in 
view,  all  your  energies  are  concentrated.  Hardship,  ex- 
posure, and  pain,  are  counted  of  little  consequence.  No- 
thing curbs  your  ardor — nothing  intimidates  your  resolution 
— nothing  retards  your  efforts.  So  much  for  money  ;  and 
all,  too,  when  you  are  certain  that  some  casualty  or  misfor- 
tune might  dash  your  hopes  in  a  single  day. 

Let  us  now  shift  the  position  of  the  argument.  No  man 
in  his  senses  will  deny  that  the  soul  is  as  valuable  as  wealth. 
But  have  we  cherished  a  proportional  solicitude  for  securing 
its  eternal  welfare]  Have  we  ever  encountered  hardship 
or  suffering  in  withdrawing  from  a  wicked  world,  and  seek- 
ing the  forgiveness  of  an  offended  God  ?  and  have  those  du- 
ties been  prosecuted  with  diligence  and  zeal  ?  Have  our 
closets,  from  day  to  day,  found  us  on  our  knees,  and  attest- 
ed the  sincerity  of  our  supplications  ?  If  not,  let  us  beware 
how  we  soothe  ourselves  with  the  reflection  that  the  sove- 
reignty of  God  renders  our  own  exertions  useless  ;  or,  if  we 
do  this,  let  us  be  consistent,  and  arraign  Omnipotence  for 
not  furnishing  a  fortune  to  our  hands — while,  at  the  same 
time,  we  may  not  think  on  the  subject  more  than  once  or 
twice  a  week,  and  then,  perhaps,  without  feeling  any  anxie- 
ty, or  making  any  vigorous  effort.  In  short,  while  the  man 
of  the  world  is  straining  every  nerve  to  accumulate  riches — 
and  that,  too,  under  the  most  infallible  assurance  that  it  de- 
pends on  the  smiles  of  Providence  entirely  whether  he  suc- 
ceeds— let  him  not  dare  to  prefer  a  charge  against  Chris- 
tianity, which,  if  he  would  carry  it  out  in  the  transactions  of 
life,  would  leave  him  a  penniless  pauper.  Let  him  be  as 
eager  in  his  eternal  as  in  his  temporal  interests,  before  he 
pleads  his  inability  to  accomplish  his  own  salvation  ;  let 
him  seek  till  he  finds  ;  let  him  knock  till  it  is  opened  ;  and 


ON   OBJECTIONS  AGAINST    CHRISTIANITY.       187 

then,  and  not  till  then,  will  he  be  prepared  to  determine 
whether  God  is  more  sovereign  in  religion  than  in  the  com- 
mon dispensations  of  His  providence  towards  mankind. 

There  is  but  one  other  subject  to  which  I  shall  direct  your 
attention  to-day,  and  that  is  the  Doctrine  of  Future  Punish- 
ments.    There  is  probably  no  passion  in  the  human  breast, 
except  such  as  are  distinctively  adventitious  and  acquired, 
which  the  sacred  Scriptures  might  not,  were  they  permitted, 
turn  to  an  important  account  in  religion.     Hence  it  is,  that 
they  exhibit  so  many  motives  which  appeal  to  our  fears,  and 
among  them  is  the  certainty  of  the  retributions  which  await 
the  wicked  in  a  coming  world.     My  brethren,  we  who  par- 
ticipate in  the  blessings  of  revealed  truth,  are  taught  that 
there  is  a  day  approaching,  when  they  that  are  in  their 
graves  shall  hear  the  voice  of  the  Son  of  Man,  and  come 
forth ;  that  on  this  awful  and  interesting  occasion,  those  who 
closed  their  earthly  career  in  impenitence  will  be  doomed  to 
everlasting  fire,  while  the  righteous  shall  shine  like  stars  in 
the  kingdom  of  their  Father.     There  appear  to  be  two  prin- 
cipal views  in  which  this  doctrine  is  obnoxious.     It  is  said, 
in  the  first  place,  that  God  consults  the  happiness  of  His 
creatures,  and  therefore  cannot  willingly  give  them  pain. 
The  supposition  would  derogate  from  His  benevolence.    My 
brethren,  such  reasoning  would  be  extremely  plausible,  were 
it  not  contradicted  by  every  day's  experience.    Now,  to  sup- 
pose that  the  Supreme  Being  would  allot  affliction  to  virtue 
and  innocence,  and  yet  be  debarred  by  His  benevolence  from 
the  punishment  of  guilt,  is  as  absurd  in  itself  as  it  is  hostile 
to  the  whole  tenor  of  Inspiration.     And  is  it  necessary  to 
enter  into  a  labored  proof  of  the  fact,  that  suffering  is  dis- 
pensed to  mankind  in  this  world  1   No,  never  till  we  can  give 
affluence  to  the  needy,  hope  to  the  desponding,  and  succor 
to  the  distressed  ;  never,  till  we  can  annihilate  the  agonies 
of  pain,  and  rob  bereavement  of  its  sting ;  never,  indeed,  till 


188  SERMON  Via 

we  can  burst  through  the  doors  of  the  sepulchre,  and  reclaim, 
and  re-animate,  and  re-embrace  the  decaying  corpses  of  our 
companions  and  friends.  And,  ray  brethren,  does  it  not  im- 
peach the  goodness  of  the  Deity,  that  He  has  consigned 
human  life  to  such  a  melancholy  variety  of  distress  ?  If  we 
are  unwilling  to  impeach  His  perfections  on  this  account, 
why  are  we  so  slow  in  believing  that  He  may^  or,  if  you 
please,  that  He  will,  inflict  suffering  in  a  future  world  ;  and 
especially  when  the  last  is  the  positive  punishment  of  sin, 
while  of  the  first  we  are  frequently  compelled  to  acknowledge 
that  we  can  give  no  possible  reason  1  But  it  is  replied,  that 
the  character  of  God  will  permit  future  torment,  but  cannot 
extend  its  duration  to  eternity.  Here,  then,  is  a  second  view, 
in  which  the  declarations  of  sacred  Scripture  become  obnoxi- 
ous to  the  natural  heart.  My  brethren,  if  what  we  have 
said  be  true,  it  will  be  admitted  that  a  certain  degree  of 
punishment  is  not  repugnant  to  the  attributes  of  the  Al- 
mighty. Now,  suppose  an  individual,  after  the  transactions 
of  the  judgment,  to  be  condemned  to  a  state  of  suffering. 
The  question  will  be,  whether  the  Divine  perfections  require 
that  he  should  ever  be  redeemed.  Does  he,  then,  become 
less  criminal  in  proportion  to  the  pain  he  endures  ?  Certain- 
ly not;  no  such  principle  is  recognised  in  human  jurispru- 
dence. A  penalty  is  never  regarded  as  expiating  guilt,  but 
simply  as  satisfying  the  demands  of  the  law.  To  determine 
the  extent  of  punishment  depends,  as  it  does  in  the  govern- 
ment of  God,  upon  a  positive  statute.  But  is  the  individual 
we  suppose  to  be  rescued  by  a  necessary  act  of  benevolence? 
Why  must  we  believe  this,  any  more  than  that  he  should 
have  been  kept  from  punishments  in  the  first  place?  The 
same  love  which  is  required  to  terminate  his  sufferings, 
might  have  been  displayed  in  a  more  striking  light  by  pre- 
venting them.  Besides,  if  a  redemption  should  take  place, 
it  would  be  the  result  of  mercy ;  but  God  punishes  His  crea- 


ON    OBJECTIONS  AGAINST   CHRISTIANITY.       189 

tures  as  a  legislator ;  and  that  a  legislator  should  be  bound 
to  exercise  mercy  is  a  solecism.  There  is  but  one  other 
supposition  on  which  future  sufferings  can  be  terminated — 
that  it  will  be  effected  by  an  act  of  sovereignty.  But,  my 
brethren,  where  is  the  warrant  for  this  ?  Does  the  Bible 
teach  any  such  doctrine  ?  No ;  the  contrary.  And  from 
what  source  have  we  learnt  that  God  will  inflict  punishment 
at  all  in  futurity?  Is  it  not  from  the  Bible,  and  that  alone? 
Let  us,  then,  be  consistent  with  ourselves,  and  either  deny 
both,  or  affirm  both.  For  shall  we  believe  so  much  of  In- 
spiration as  suits  our  own  taste,  and  reject  the  remainder  ? 
If  this  be  philosophy,  it  is  difficult  to  say  what  is  not. 
When,  therefore,  an  objector  assails  the  scriptural  doctrine 
of  the  eternal  punishment  of  the  wicked  on  the  score  of  its 
severity,  let  him  first  ask  in  what  way  an  infinitely  benevo- 
lent Being  can  permit  present  suffering  ;  and  what  shall 
prevent  the  Deity  from  inflicting  it  in  a  future  state,  any 
more  than  in  this? — and  if  it  be  once  inflicted,  by  what  rea- 
soning shall  we  prove  that  it  will  ever  come  to  an  end  ? — and 
if  unassisted  reason  cannot  throw  the  least  lio^ht  on  the  sub- 
ject,  which  is  preferable,  to  follow  our  own  wild  conjectures, 
or  to  be  guided  by  the  word  of  the  living  God  ?  When  the 
caviller  shall  candidly  answer  these  inquiries,  it  will  be  time 
to  defend  Revelation — from  objections ;  but  if  they  cannot 
be  answered,  neither  tell  we  him  how  the  character  of  the 
Supreme  Being  requires  that  He  should  punish  a  part  of  His 
creatures  to  all  eternity. 

With  Divine  permission,  the  next  Sabbath  morning  will 
be  devoted  to  the  objections  so  often,  and  so  inconsistently, 
urged  against  the  foreknowledge  of  God.  My  brethren, 
after  all  the  difficulties,  and  murmurs,  and  cavils,  which  can 
be  urged,  if  we  are  ever  saved  at  all,  we  must  be  saved  by 
grace.  This  is  the  way  in  which  prophets,  and  apostles, 
and  evangelists  have  been  saved ;  this  is  the  way  in  which 


190  SERMON  VI. 

sinners  in  every  age  have  been  enrolled  among  the  children 
of  God  ;  this  is  the  way  in  which  Heaven  will  be  peopled, 
and  in  which  you  and  I  may  yet  be  admitted  to  those  pure 
and  perfect  joys  which  are  laid  up  for  the  righteous  on  high. 
But,  my  brethren,  except  we  repent,  we  shall  perish  forever. 
It  is  true,  as  God  is  true.  Oh,  did  I  dare  to  do  it,  how  gladly 
would  I  dispense  with  this  part  of  my  message,  and  appeal 
only  to  the  feelings  of  gratitude  and  love.  But  hath  He 
spoken,  and  shall  He  not  do  it  ?  From  His  decision,  not 
all  the  groans,  the  prayers,  the  tears  of  ten  thousand  worlds, 
can  effect  a  moment's  duration.  How  solemn  are  our  des- 
tinies  !  In  a  few  more  years,  and  other  assemblies  will  be 
listening  to  the  Gospel,  and  we  shall  be  in  eternity  !  Have 
we  no  hope  in  Christ  ?  Why  not  ?  What  is  our  apology  ? 
In  some  hour  of  leisure  let  us  coolly  calculate  the  price  for 
which  we  may  be  bartering  our  immortal  souls. 
And  may  God  follow  us  with  His  Spirit.     Amen. 


ON    OBJECTIONS    AGAINST    CHRISTIANITY.       191 


SERMON  VII. 

"Neither  tell  I  you  by  what  authority  I  do  these  things." 

Matthew,  xxi.,  27. 

In  these  severe  and  comprehensive  words  did  our  Sa- 
viour reply  to  the  Jewish  rabbis,  who  scornfully  demanded 
his  credentials  as  a  public  teacher.  He  triumphed  over 
their  malice, — not  by  frowning  them  into  nothing,  not  by 
exciting  against  them  the  popular  prejudice,  but  by  gradually 
leading  and  leaving  them  to  the  mortification  of  finding 
themselves  completely  caught  in  the  snares  which  they 
had  spread  for  him. 

They  had  begun  by  asking  questions  which  they  fancied 
he  would  be  unable  to  answer.  Knowing  their  motives,  the 
Lord  Jesus  retorted  the  attack  by  stating  some  questions 
for  their  consideration  ;  and  when,  with  much  reluctance, 
they  were  compelled  to  acknowledge  their  incompetency  to 
reply,  he  promptly  told  them,  in  the  words  of  the  text,  that 
he  did  not  deem  himself  bound  to  remove  all  the  difficulties 
which  they  might  suggest  to  him,  any  more  than  they  were 
to  elucidate  some  perplexing  points  which  he  could  mention 
to  them. 

In  explaining  and  applying  this  passage  on  former 
occasions,  it  was  remarked,  that  modern  cavillers  against 
religion  seem  to  follow  very  closely  in  the  footsteps  of  the 
Jewish  doctors  ;  they  are  extremely  fond  of  fastening  diffi- 
culties and  objections  on  the  Bible,  which  they  ignorantly 
or  intentionally  forget  would  exist  in  undiminished  force,  if 
the  Bible  had  never  been  written.  The  truth  of  this  has 
been  illustrated  in  reference  to  several  of  the  Christian  doc- 
trines.    There    remains,  however,  one  of  more  practical 


192  SERMON    VII. 

importance  than  all  the  rest,  which  shall  now  be  made  a 
subject  of  investigation, — I  mean  the  Foreknowledge  of 
God. 

We  are  taught  in  the  sacred  Scriptures,  that  although  the 
Supreme  Being  has  offered  to  his  creatures  the  invitations 
of  the  Gospel,  and  commanded  all  men  everywhere  to  re- 
pent, He  possesses  the  prescience,  beyond  the  possibility  of 
disappointment  of  the  result,  in  every  individual  case.  He 
knows,  and  from  all  eternity  has  known,  in  regard  to  each 
human  being,  what  will  be  his  character,  what  his  conduct, 
and  what  his  allotment,  when  the  Day  of  Accounts  shall 
arrive.  All  the  complicated  events  of  futurity  are  inspected 
by  His  omniscient  eye, — and,  in  the  awful  and  impressive 
language  of  Inspiration,  "  Hell  is  naked  before  Him,  and 
destruction  has  no  covering."  Yet  we  are  instructed  to  be- 
lieve on  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  on  the  penalty  of  endless 
perdition.  We  are  required  to  work  out  our  own  salvation 
with  fear  and  trembling.  We  are  admonished  of  our  dan- 
ger while  destitute  of  a  good  hope  through  grace,  and  en- 
treated to  be  reconciled  to  God,  with  as  much  earnestness 
and  soHcitude  as  if  He  were  utterly  uncertain  of  the  event 
till  it  transpired. 

My  brethren,  we  need  none  of  us  to  be  told  that  this  doc- 
trine, in  every  age,  has  awakened  the  hostility  of  the  hu- 
man heart,  and  been  converted  into  an  apology  for  perse- 
vering impertinence.  When  sinners  are  informed  that 
their  happiness  in  a  future  world  is  suspended  entirely  upon 
their  piety  in  this,  they  will  often  assent,  with  great  com- 
posure, to  the  truth  of  the  representation,  but  reply,  that 
the  foreknowledge  of  the  Deity  obviates  the  necessity  of 
their  exertions.  He  is  perfectly  apprised,  they  will  say,  of 
our  ultimate  destinies, — events  which  appear  contingent  to 
us,  are  certain  to  Him  ;  and  if  so,  their  certainty  was  derived 
from   His   will ; — and  although  we  may  be  at  liberty,  in 


ON   OBJECTIONS    AGAINST   CHRISTIANITY.       193 

some  sense,  to  do  as  we  choose,  yet  it  will  always  be  so 
ordered,  that  we  shall  choose  to  do  the  very  actions  which 
God  knew  we  should  do,  before  the  foundation  of  the  world. 
In  this  dilemma,  we  will  await  the  movements  of  Provi- 
dence,— perhaps,  in  the  revolution  of  things,  we  may  be 
interested  in  Christ,  but,  at  all  events,  the  intentions  of  the 
Creator  will  be  accomplished, — and  whatever  might  be  our 
exertions,  we  cannot  thwart  His  purposes,  nor  change  His 
determinations. 

One  would  think,  my  brethren,  that  any  man,  of  the 
least  reflection,  must  discover  the  fallacy  of  this  reasoning. 
If  it  is  adopted  at  all,  it  will  lead  us  to  fatalism,  and,  unless 
we  are  prepared  to  follow  it  to  that  dreary  point,  it  can  be  of 
no  advantage.  When  we  consult  the  testimony  of  unas- 
sisted reason  on  this  subject,  it  will  quadrate  with  that  of  the 
sacred  Scriptures.  We  find  ourselves  placed  by  Supreme 
Providence  in  this  world.  Among  our  first  conceptions  of  a 
God,  it  occurs  to  us  that  He  must  be  all-wise.  Indeed, 
every  possible  perfection  enters  essentially  into  our  idea  of 
Divinity.  If,  then,  He  be  all-wise,  he  must  foreknow  future 
events,  —  because,  otherwise,  every  succeeding  day  would  be 
disclosing  occurrences  which  He  had  never  anticipated, — 
and  which,  therefore,  must  be  considered  as  adding  to  his 
stock  of  knowledge.  On  the  other  hand,  our  consciousness 
teaches  us  that  the  human  will  is  entirely  free  in  its  voli- 
tions. We  all  feel  the  power  of  choice,  when  different  ob- 
jects are  presented  to  us.  Indeed,  our  determinations  are 
so  aloof  from  restraint  or  control,  as  to  have  rendered  it  a 
proverb  among  the  schoolmen,  that  no  man  can  ever  do  what 
he  is  unwilling  to  do  ;  and  even  if  there  be  a  directing  influ- 
ence over  our  minds,  it  operates  in  so  secret  and  mysterious 
a  manner,  that  we  always  retain  the  most  indelible  impres- 
sion of  our  own  responsibility.  With  regard  to  the  Divine 
Being,  then,  we  must  assume  His  foreknowledge  of  future 


194  SERMON    VII. 

events  as  essential  to  the  perfection  of  His  character.  With 
regard  to  ourselves,  we  have  the  evidence  of  consciousness, 
confirmed  by  the  universal  sense  of  accountability  among 
men,  that  we  are,  in  the  full  meaning  of  the  term,  free 
agents.  And  of  both  these  truths  we  may  possess  the  most 
firm  and,  rational  conviction,  although  the  connexion  be- 
tween them  is  to  us,  and  to  all  mankind,  and  perhaps  even 
to  angels  themselves,  buried  in  impenetrable  darkness. 

Such,  my  brethren,  is  the  language  of  reason.  Such 
were  the  theories  of  the  most  celebrated  schools  of  philo- 
sophy before  the  advent  of  Christ ;  and  such,  purified  by  the 
Spirit,  and  irradiated  by  the  splendors  of  Revelation,  is  the 
doctrine  of  that  Gospel  which  has  brought  life  and  immor- 
tality to  light.  And  let  me  ask,  is  there  any  thing  attached 
to  it  which  can  be  distorted  into  an  apology  for  indifference 
to  the  subject  of  religion, — any  thing  which  can  excuse  us 
for  deferring  an  immediate  attention  to  the  concerns  of  our 
souls  ?  Let  us,  then,  reason  with  impartiality,  and  not  per- 
mit one  part  of  our  conduct  to  contradict  the  other.  That  is 
a  most  absurd  and  inconsistent  theory,  which,  so  far  from 
applying  to  the  ordinary  purposes  of  life,  is  merely  invented 
as  a  salvo,  to  which  the  conscience  resorts,  for  quieting  its 
own  rebukes,  after  contracting  the  guilt  of  habitual  impeni- 
tence. 

My  brethren,  every  man  in  community  is  engaged  in  some 
object  or  occupation.  Whenever  we  look  around  us,  we 
discover  animation,  enterprise,  and  zeal  ;  and  not  only  so, 
but,  from  some  strange  cause  or  other,  we  commonly  find 
industry,  sooner  or  later,  crowned  with  success,  while  idleness 
and  dissipation  almost  invariably  carry  in  their  train  the  cer- 
tainty of  ultimate  want.  Now,  the  doctrine  of  the  Divine 
foreknowledge  applies,  in  all  its  force,  and  all  its  entireness, 
to  the  pursuits  in  which  we  engage,  for  the  acquisition  of 
wealth,  as  much  as  to  the  concerns  of  eternity.     But  does 


ON   OBJECTIONS    AGAINST    CHRISTIANITY.       195 

this  important  recollection  occur  to  us  while  we  are  so 
eagerly  seizing  on  the  doctrine  as  an  excuse  for  our  con- 
tinuing in  sin  ?  How  often  do  we  hear  men,  pretending  to 
great  strength  of  mind,  reply  to  the  exhortations  of  the 
pious  by  saying,  "  It  can  be  of  no  avail  to  make  exertions, 
— God  is  perfectly  acquainted  with  all  events, — He  fore- 
knows the  endless  destiny  of  every  being  He  has  created, — 
and  whatever  be  our  wishes,  His  views  cannot  be  disap- 
pointed, nor  His  decisions  reversed."  But  are  these  men 
willing  to  apply  their  logic  to  their  plantations,  their  stores, 
or  their  commercial  transactions  ?  Will  they  neglect  their 
crops,  because  God  foreknows  whether  they  will  be  produc- 
tive or  not  ?  Will  they  sell  their  goods  without  security, 
because  God  foreknows  whether  that  security  will  be  safe  ? 
Will  they  omit  a  speculation,  because  God  foreknows 
whether  it  will  eventuate  successfully  ?  O  no !  The 
foreknowledge  of  God  is  no  difficulty  here  ; — it  does  not 
relax  a  single  energy,  nor  interrupt  a  single  plan.  Yet, 
why  not  ?  The  Creator  does  not  foresee  the  destiny  of  the 
soul,  by  one  iota,  more  distinctly  than  He  does  the  issue  of 
our  private  business,  or  mercantile  projects.  The  two  cases 
are  exactly  parallel,  and,  so  far  as  this  point  is  concerned, 
Christianity  has  taught  nothing  which  the  experience  of 
every  individual  in  the  world  will  not  confirm.  If,  then, 
we  are,  either  secretly  or  avowedly,  procrastinating  repent- 
ance, under  the  fatal  impression  that  our  whole  conduct  is 
known  to  God,  beyond  the  possibility  of  change,  let  us  fol- 
low the  argument  as  far  as  it  will  fairly  lead  us.  Let  us 
halt  in  the  pursuits  of  human  life, — discard  the  unwearied 
anxiety  which  we  now  feel  for  reputation  and  riches,  and 
surrender  ourselves  as  mere  machines,  to  be  operated  on 
by  those  objects  which  may  happen  to  surround  us,  or  still, 
more  consistently,  by  no  objects  at  all. 

The  truth  is,  my  brethren,  there  is  no  objection  which 


196  SERMON     VII. 

cavillers  have  ever  urged  against  religion,  so  little  entitled 
to  respect  as  that  to  which  we  allude.  Because,  when  a 
man  unblushingly  stigmatises  Christianity,  and  satisfies  the 
remonstrances  of  his  conscience,  with  a  consideration  which 
he  knows  will  apply  equally  to  the  minutest  concerns  of 
life,  he  exhibits  as  equivocal  a  specimen  of  his  good  sense 
and  discernment,  as  of  his  piety.  And  there  seems  to  be  no 
way  in  which  his  opinions  can  claim  the  shadow  of  regard, 
until  he  consents  to  be  consistent,  and  abandons  the  inter- 
ests of  himself  and  family  with  as  much  composure  as  he 
evades  the  requisitions  of  the  Bible.  To  an  objector,  there- 
fore, who  pretends  to  be  deterred  by  the  Divine  foreknow- 
ledge, from  commencing  the  work  of  his  own  salvation,  it 
is  proper  to  suggest  such  inquiries  as  these  :  Does  God  fore- 
know the  destiny  of  his  soul  in  any  sense  except  that  in 
which  He  foreknows  the  result  of  his  exertions  for  tempo- 
ral advantage?  Does  he  not  act  in  all  the  situations  and 
circumstances,  and  transactions  of  life,  as  a  free  agent  ? 
And  dare  he  to  go  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ  with 
no  other  plea  for  his  impenitence,  than  that  his  own  efforts 
must  have  proved  inefficient,  from  the  foreknowledge  of 
God  ?  Can  he  answer  these  questions  ?  Neither  tell  we 
him  in  what  way  the  Divine  prescience  of  all  events  can  be 
reconciled  with  the  entreaties  and  exhortations  of  the  Gos- 
pel, or  with  the  obligations  of  repentance,  under  which 
every  human  being  is  laid. 

My  brethren,  it  but  remains  to  suggest  two  reflections 
from  the  subject  which  has  now  been  discussed.  The  first 
has  reference  to  the  limited  powers  of  the  human  mind  ; 
our  Creator  has  seen  fit  to  restrict  our  intellectual  compre- 
hension within  very  reduced  boundaries.  It  is  true,  that 
over  those  beings  which  are  beneath  us  in  the  scale  of  cre- 
ation, we  may  claim  a  decided  superiority  ;  but  it  is  also 
true,  that  in  comparison  with  that  gradation  of  intelligences 


ON  OBJECTIONS  AGAINST  CHRISTIANITY.        197 

which  fills  up  the  vast  distance  between  man  and  his  God, 
our  capacities  are  extremely  feeble  and  contracted.  But 
there  is  one  consideration  which  may  animate  us  under  the 
consciousness  of  comparative  inferiority  ;  and  that  is, 
that  our  minds  are  progressive  ;  they  are  constantly  moving, 
and  forever  will  be  moving,  towards  a  state  of  perfection* 
Who  knoweth,  but  one  day  our  invigorated  and  enlarged 
conceptions  may  reconcile  all  those  mysterious  doctrines 
which  now  wear  the  aspect  of  inconsistency  ?  Who  know- 
eth,  but  they  may  then  appear  as  clear  and  harmonious  as 
the  simplest  truths  which  now  excite  our  attention  ?  Yes, 
there  may  be  a  period  when  the  most  difficult  points  of  Re- 
velation shall  be  unfolded  to  us  in  all  their  bearings  and 
dependencies,  and  when,  advancing  to  greater  and  greater 
knowledge,  we  shall  seize  with  facility  on  subjects  which 
the  loftiest  angel  in  Heaven  cannot  now  explain  ?  My 
brethren,  I  have  never  met  with  the  opinion  from  others, 
and  perhaps  have  not  sufficient  reasons  for  adopting  it 
myself.  But  I  cannot  help  thinking,  that  the  great  motive 
of  our  Maker,  in  requiring  us  to  believe  doctrines  which  we 
cannot  entirely  reconcile,  is  to  exercise  our  faith.  He  has 
taught  us  some  things  confessedly  hard  to  be  understood  ; 
and  He  asks  us  if  we  are  willing  to  take  His  word,  or  if  we 
will  continue  to  reject  it,  because  it  is  not  accompanied  by 
all  the  explanations  which  we  might  wish  ;  and  I  do  sup- 
pose that  the  child  of  God,  who  has  humbly  and  sincerely 
received  whatever  the  Bible  has  declared,  may  enjoy  a  re- 
ward of  his  faith  in  the  day  of  judgment,  by  finding  every 
thing  cleared  up  to  his  comprehension,  while  the  sinner, 
who  has  ridiculed  or  rejected  doctrines,  merely  because  he 
could  not  understand  them,  may  learn  their  consistency 
and  truth  at  the  same  awful  day,  when  the  discovery  will 
only  aggravate  his  wretchedness  for  his  conduct.  But,  be 
this  as  it  may  :  it  is  the  dictate  of  philosophy  and  reflection, 


19S  SERMON  VII. 

as  much  as  of  religion,  that  we  should  believe  all  the  Bible, 
or  none  of  it.  Persons  frequently  go  to  church,  and  com- 
plain that  the  preacher  is  too  severe ;  and  I  have  no  dispo- 
sition to  deny,  that  Christian  pulpits  have  often  resounded 
too  much  with  the  thunders  of  Sinai.  But,  my  brethren, 
the  best  way  to  decide  such  questions,  is  to  go  with  an 
honest  and  independent  spirit,  and  examine  the  Bible.  Be- 
cause, if  a  minister  should  profess  to  preach  the  word  of 
God,  and  yet  not  preach  it,  it  is  very  certain,  that  every 
man  of  sense,  who  might  detect  him,  would  despise  his  con- 
duct. And,  besides,  he  is  set  as  a  watchman  for  souls.  On 
him,  in  no  small  degree,  are  resting  the  everlasting  des- 
tinies of  his  people  ;  and  ought  he  to  betray  his  trust  ?  If 
his  hearers  think  him  needlessly  or  unjustifiably  severe,  let 
them  take  the  Bible,  and  in  a  familiar  manner  visit  him 
with  their  objections.  If  he  is  a  good  man,  he  will  thank 
and  love  them  for  it— if  he  is  an  honest  man,  he  will  hold 
himself  ready  to  renounce  any  opinions  which  may  be  er- 
roneous. But,  in  all  our  deliberations,  and  all  our  difficul- 
ties, let  us  be  guided  by  this  great  charter  which  has  come 
to  us  from  on  high  :  What  God  has  written,  He  has  written. 
It  is  in  vain  to  oppose  Him,  or  to  contend  with  His  sove- 
reignty. There  may  be  some  little  plausibility  in  con- 
troversies among  ourselves,  when  the  chances  are  nearly 
equal.  But  woe  unto  him  that  striveth  with  his  Maker. 
Better  wrestle  with  the  oak  of  the  forest — better  chal- 
lenge the  hurricane  that  roars  through  the  wilderness — 
better  breast  the  lightnings  that  set  the  Heavens  on  fire. 

To-day,  if  ye  will  hear  His  voice,  harden  not  your  hearts. 
It  is  the  burden  of  Dumah.  He  calleth  to  me  out  of  Seir, 
Watchman,  what  of  the  night?  The  watchman  saith, 
The  morning  cometh,  and  also  the  night — if  ye  will  in- 
quire,— inquire  ye, — return, — come.     Amen. 


PRACTICAL   ADMONITIONS.  199 


SERMON  VIII. 

"  Finally,  brethren,  farewell.  Be  perfect,  be  of  good  comfort,  be  of 
one  mind,  live  in  peace ;  and  the  God  of  love  and  peace  shall  be  with 
you."  ♦ 

2  Corinthians,  xiii. J  11. 

Among  the  cities  of  antiquity,  there  seems  to  have 
been  none  of  greater  commercial  importance  than  Corinth. 
Situated  on  an  isthmus,  still  dignified  with  its  name,  be- 
tween old  Greece  and  the  colonies,  it  communicated  through 
the  ancient  ^gean  Sea,  on  the  one  hand,  with  the  ports  of 
Asia,  and  on  the  other,  through  the  modern  Gulf  of  Lepante, 
with  the  busy  shores  of  Europe.  With  these  immense  local 
facilities,  commanding  at  once  all  the  produce  of  the  penin- 
sula, and  all  the  active  capital  of  the  continent,  furnished 
with  two  fine  harbors,  which,  at  the  distance  of  a  few  miles 
from  each  other,  opened  an  intercourse  with  opposite  quar- 
ters of  the  globe,  and,  besides  this,  defended  by  natural  bar- 
riers which  might  rival  the  strength  of  Gibraltar,  we  cannot 
wonder  that  it  attained  so  exalted  a  rank  for  population  and 
wealth. 

While  this  city  was  climbing  to  the  zenith  of  her  glory, 
an  incident  occurred  at  the  eastward,  which  excited  very 
general  attention.  A  young  man  of  high  family,  of  an 
elegant  and  accomplished  education,  and  of  uncommon 
popularity  among  his  countrymen,  had  renounced  his  hos- 
tility to  the  Christian  religion,  and  become  one  of  its  most 
devoted  advocates  and  disciples.  It  was  the  apostle  Paul. 
Abandoning  the  profession  of  the  law,  in  which  he  had 
commenced  the  pursuit  of  a  rich  renown,  he  resolved  to 
be  a  minister  of  the  infant  sect,  which  was  then  so  ob- 


200  SERMON  VIII. 

noxious  through  the  Roman  empire.  Severe  indeed  must 
have  been  the  trial.  His  design  was  opposed  by  all  his 
connexions  ;  it  withered,  at  a  blow,  every  hope  of  polit- 
ical eminence,  and,  in  some  sort,  debarred  him  from 
those  circles  of  society  to  which  he  had  been  accustomed, 
and  in  which  his  most  intimate  friends  were  mingling. 
To  a  heart  like  his,  in  which  every  tender  and  delicate 
feeling  found  a  home,  such  considerations  could  not  but 
be  painful.  He  would  have  been  either  more  or  less 
than  human,  had  not  the  ten  thousand  circumstances 
which  constantly  reminded  him  of  his  mortifying  change 
of  life,  awakened  some  emotion.  But  his  bosom  was  the 
sanctuary  of  his  own  sorrows.  Though  he  had  surren- 
dered all  he  once  held  dear, — ease,  opulence,  reputation, 
and  even  the  ties  of  consanguinity, — he  did  not  complain. 
The  Christian  triumphed,  and  the  man  was  conquered. 
That  heroic  and  regenerated  mind  which  was  towering  to 
the  conceptions  of  eternity,  could  not  waste  its  regrets 
over  the  ephemeral  trifles  which  it  sacrificed  in  the  ascent. 
After  assuming  the  heraldry  of  the  Gospel,  it  became  an 
important  question  with  St.  Paul,  to  what  part  of  the 
world  he  should  bend  his  steps.  He  had  been  invited 
by  the  Church  at  Jerusalem  to  become  their  pastor. 
Nor  was  it  an  inconsiderable  inducement,  that  this  would 
have  fixed  him  in  the  bosom  of  his  friends.  In  Antioch, 
Ephesus,  and  several  other  towns,  also,  there  were  Chris- 
tian congregations  anxious  to  retain  him.  And  to  a  man 
of  the  world,  it  must  appear  wonderful  that  he  declined 
so  many  offers,  distinguished  for  their  liberality.  But  de- 
cline them  he  did.  Relinquishing  all  the  endearments  of 
early  affection,  and  all  the  comforts  of  elegant  life,  he 
repaired,  with  motives  which  his  Creator  alone  could  ap- 
preciate, to  the  rich,  the  gay,  the  licentious  city  of  Co- 
rinth.    For  what  ?     To   exhibit    the  resources  of  his  ta- 


PRACTICAL    ADMONITIONS.  201 

lents  ?  To  gather  the  laurels  of  literary  fame  ?  To  grasp 
the  treasures  which  thousands  had  gone  there  to  accu- 
mulate? No,  none  of  these.  Indifferent  to  the  charms 
of  glory,  and  the  magnificence  of  wealth,  he  collected  a 
little  flock  around  him,  and  taught  them  the  preciousness  of 
redeeming  blood.  He  bent  with  them  before  the  altars  of 
prayer — he  poured  the  balsam  of  Heaven  into  the  bleeding 
heart — he  watched  the  sleepless  agonies  of  death — he 
wiped  the  tear  from  the  cheek  of  bereavement — he  pointed 
the  anxious  eye  of  inquiry  to  the  rest  that  remaineth  for 
the  people  of  God.  After  toiling  for  several  months  with 
the  most  affectionate  fidelity,  he  resolved  to  revisit  the 
scenes  of  his  childhood.  He  promised,  however,  to  return 
to  the  people  of  his  charge  ;  and  during  his  absence,  as  an 
encouragement  to  their  piety,  he  transmitted  to  them  the 
epistle  which  closes  with  the  beautiful  sentiment  of  the 
text :  Finally^  brethren,  farewell,  I  can  easily  conceive 
what  emotions  such  a  declaration  must  cost  a  Christian 
pastor. 

My  hearers,  he  is  a  libeller  on  religion,  who  pronounces 
it  hostile  to  the  social  affections.  It  regulates  and  sanc- 
tifies them.  So  far  from  enfeebling  the  vigjP  of  friendship, 
it  sheds  over  it  the  sublime  hope  of  perpetuity  in  Heaven, 
And  if  there  was  a  single  trait  which  more  than  others 
distinguished  the  great  apostle  of  the  Gentiles,  it  was  the 
warmth  of  his  attachments.  In  advancing  the  interests  of 
his  flock,  nothing  was  too  hazardous  to  be  encountered,  and 
nothing  too  painful  to  be  endured.  With  the  solicitude  of 
a  parent,  he  investigated  their  wants  ;  he  sought  out  the 
abodes  of  poverty  and  suffering,  and  sin  ;  he  assimilated 
himself  to  every  grade  of  weakness  and  infirmity.  I  know, 
indeed,  that  he  made  the  delegated  throne  of  the  Caesars  to 
tremble  ;  but  he  could  as  easily  unbend  the  commanding 
energies  of  his  mind,  and  assume  the  docility  of  a  child. 


202  SERMON  VIII. 

When  surrounded  by  genius  and  philosophy,  his  illustrious 
talents  illuminate  every  subject  he  touches ; — when  he  is 
seen  among  the  illiterate  and  poor,  he  conforms  to  their 
views,  and  encourages  universal  confidence,  by  his  dignified 
famiUarity.  Such  was  the  man, — not  the  imperious  tyrant, 
not  the  cold-hearted  stoic,  but  the  humane,  the  feeling,  the 
noble  St.  Paul,  who  instructed  the  Corinthian  Church,  in 
the  first  place,  to  be  perfect. 

My  brethren,  the  necessity  of  holiness  in  the  heart  is  the 
corner-stone  of  Christianity.  To  whatever  external  ob- 
servances we  may  conform,  if  this  great  principle  be  want- 
ing, the  gospel  of  the  grace  of  God  remains  a  dead  letter. 
Nor  is  it  wonderful  that  it  should  be  so ;  for,  apart  from  the 
forgiveness  of  injuries,  all  the  external  and  relative  duties  of 
life  are  inculcated  by  the  codes  of  Heathen  morality.  And 
I  appeal  to  you.  Did  an  incarnate  Deity  expire  in  ignominy 
and  torture ;  did  he  resign  the  helm  of  the  universe,  and 
come  down,  and  bleed,  and  suffer,  and  die,  to  teach  what 
Plato,  or  Socrates,  or  Aristotle,  had  taught  before  him  ?  No. 
He  has,  indeed,  within  these  lids  enjoined  the  discharge  of 
all  the  social  relations,  but  that  is  only  a  parenthesis  in  the 
volume ;  it  is  9^e  of  those  occasional  blessings  which  reli- 
gion strews  around  her  path  to  the  upper  world.  Every 
man  who  knows  the  alphabet  of  the  Bible,  knows  also  that 
the  love  of  God  is  uniformly  made  the  criterion  of  pie- 
ty ;  and  how  this  can  be  cherished  without  the  tribute  of 
positive  affection — how  we  can  be  attached  to  our  Creator 
any  more  than  to  a  friend,  while  the  feelings  are  entirely 
disinclined  to  His  character, — are  questions  which  ought  to 
be  answered  in  the  solitude  of  the  closet ;  but  destined,  as 
perhaps  I  am,  to  meet  you  no  more  till  the  resurrection,  I 
cannot  conceal  my  fears,  that  much  of  what  passes  for  piety 
will  be  burnt  up  by  the  first  flash  from  the  fires  of  the  judg- 
ment day.  , 


PRACTICAL  ADMONITIONS.  203 

Be  of  good  comfort.  To  shield  Christianity  from  the 
charge  of  moroseness  and  gloom,  appears  to  have  awakened 
the  apostle's  most  active  solicitude.  He  was  aware  that  re- 
straints imposed  on  the  propensities  of  the  natural  heart  are 
too  commonly  construed  into  attempts  to  abridge  the  rational 
pleasures  of  life.  My  brethren,  if  Mr.  Addison's  distinction 
be  just  between  cheerfulness  and  mirth,  regarding  the  one 
as  a  habit  and  the  other  as  an  indulgence  of  the  mind,  the 
theory  we  oppose  is  chimerical  and  vain.  It  is  true  that  the 
incipient  stages  of  piety  are  marked  by  exercises  of  no  very 
grateful  kind.  Because  in  being  affected,  as  affected  we 
must  be,  by  the  conviction  that  we  are  sinners,  our  views 
are  naturally  clouded  with  apprehension.  But,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  sacred  Scripture,  "  the  weeping  endures  for  a  night, 
joy  Cometh  in  the  morning."  No  matter  how  severe  the 
pangs  of  remorse ;  no  matter  how  unwelcome  the  impres- 
sions of  guilt ;  when  a  beam  of  mercy  does  light  upon  the 
heart,  it  comes,  like  the  rainbow  of  the  deluge,  a  pledge  that 
the  storm  has  subsided,  and  a  presage  of  future  serenity  and 
peace.  To  a  Christian,  then,  not  only  is  cheerfulness  be- 
coming, but  the  want  of  it,  except  in  cases  of  constitutional 
infirmity,  is  a  suspicious  symptom.  For  the  law  of  God  is 
only  beneficence  acting  by  rule,  and  he  who  ascribes  to  it 
the  most  distant  design  of  retrenching  the  sphere  of  human 
happiness,  has  never  yielded  that  sincere  and  affectionate 
obedience  which  is  required. 

Be  of  one  mind.  Perhaps  an  expression  like  this  might 
seem  to  countenance  that  unyielding  stubbornness,  which 
clings  with  the  grasp  of  death  to  the  punctilios  of  its  own 
opinions.  But  it  has  no  such  meaning.  In  the  Greek  lan- 
guage, it  never  refers  to  the  intellect,  but  exclusively  to  the 
affections.  My  brethren,  we  are  not  constructed  to  agree 
in  every  little  apex  of  beUef,  nor  am  I  certain  that  on  all 
accounts  it  would  be  desirable.     Truth,  like  light,  is  often 


204  SERMON  VIII. 

produced  by  collision.  Men  are  fond  of  thinking  for  them- 
selves ;  and  to  this  propensity,  however  it  may  at  times 
have  degenerated  into  the  obstinacy  of  error,  are  to  be  as- 
cribed some  of  the  most  majestic  results  which  the  human 
mind  has  ever  accomplished.  Forgetful  of  the  unimportant 
diversities  of  private  judgment,  the  apostle  calls  on  us  to 
rally  around  those  cardinal  doctrines  on  which  our  redemp- 
tion is  reared.  He  exhorts  us  to  unanimity  of  design,  and 
concentration  of  movement,  in  enlightening  the  ignorance, 
reforming  the  vice,  and  reclaiming  the  debasement  of  soci- 
ety. He  cries  to  us  to  form  an  impenetrable  phalanx  against 
the  desolating  career  of  infidelity ;  against  the  gilded  and 
seductive  corruptions  of  misnamed  liberality  in  religion ; 
and  against  the  palsying  influence  of  those  supine  and  selfish 
automatons  who  never  give  a  dollar  to  humanity  or  to  God. 
All  this  may  be  done ;  all  this  ought  to  be  done ;  and  yet, 
in  every  proper  sense,  we  may  comply  with  the  apostle's 
last  injunction,  to  live  in  peace.  Indeed,  there  is  no  feasi- 
ble method  of  promoting  public  harmony,  except  by  defend- 
ing the  institutions,  and  cherishing  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel. 
Go  where  we  will,  beyond  the  influence  of  Christian  prin- 
ciple, we  shall  find  community  united  by  no  general  bond. 
We  shall  see  the  miserable  panders  of  calumny  rioting  on  the 
security  of  social  confidence,  and  the  pestilential  mildew  of 
detraction  blighting  the  paradise  of  domestic  love.  But  when 
we  trace  the  footsteps  of  Jesus  Christ,  we  may  be  cheered 
by  another  scene.  Dissension  retires  at  his  approach  ;  the 
heart  swells  with  kindness  and  philanthropy,  and  life  is 
lightened  of  half  its  toil  by  the  consolations  which  alleviate 
its  suflerings.  As  far  as  in  us  lies,  therefore,  let  us  live 
peaceably  with  all  men.  Let  no  sectarian  prejudice  be  per- 
mitted to  invade  the  territories  of  personal  friendship.  Let 
us  distrust  the  calumniations  which  are  heaped  on  others, 
and  disregard  those  which  are  aimed  at  ourselves.    Let  our 


PRACTICAL    ADMONITIONS.  205 

social  and  private  affections  be  sanctified  by  the  blood  of  the 
Cross,  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  will  the  God  of  peace  and 
of  love  be  with  us.  How  precious  the  promise  !  how  exalted 
the  hope  !  Exposed  as  we  are  to  a  series  of  restless  vicis- 
situdes, what  can  be  more  delightful  than  the  presence  of 
that  Protecting  Power  who  will  count  our  tears  and  soothe 
our  sorrows?  Who  of  us  can  recal  the  scenes  through 
which  we  have  passed,  without  appreciating  the  value  of 
piety  ?  When  misfortune  has  shrouded  our  prospects  ;  when 
the  grave  has  sounded  its  summons  through  the  family  cir- 
cle, and  snatched  its  victim  from  our  arms ;  when  we  have 
been  stretched  on  the  bed  of  expected  death,  and  alarmed* 
by  the  apprehensions  of  eternity,  have  we  not  longed  to 
catch  that  blessed  sound, — Thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee  !  Ah  ! 
sweet  must  be  the  hope  of  the  Gospel  in  a  dying  hour  ;  when 
the  last  pulsation  is  trembling  through  the  heart,  the  sinking 
head  of  the  believer  is  pillowed  on  the  bosom  of  Jesus,  while 
the  spirit,  dislodged  from  its  tenement  of  clay,  springs  to  the 
realms  of  everlasting  bliss.  My  hearers,  this  is  the  grace  of 
God.  Every  succeeding  day  is  extending  its  trophies,  and 
illustrating  its  glory.  And  when  I  see  the  flowers  of  Eden 
again  blossoming  on  earth ;  when  I  catch  the  spires  of 
Christian  churches  glittering  amidst  the  pagoda  and  funeral 
piles  of  Hindostan  ;  when  I  find  the  rude  and  revengeful 
savage  exchanging  the  war-whoop  of  the  wilderness  for  the 
songs  of  salvation  ;  when  I  behold  the  benignity  of  the  Gos- 
pel beginning  to  beam  through  the  mosques  of  the  Arabian 
prophet,  whose  disciples  were  converted  at  the  point  of  the 
bayonet,  and  baptised  in  blood ;  in  a  word,  when  I  watch 
the  dawnings  of  twilight  breaking  through  the  eastern  sky, 
and  shedding  their  splendor  over  the  dark  and  dismal  ex- 
panse of  human  desolation, — I  cannot  help  thinking  that  the 
God  of  peace  and  love  is  once  more  about  to  visit  our  be- 
nighted world,  and  to  fill  and  animate  it  with  all  the  evi- 
10 


206  SERMON  VIII. 

dences  of  His  glory.     Yes,  my  brethren,  the  aged  father, 
who  was  once  abandoned  to  the  waves  on  the  charge  of 
years  and  infirmity,  is  now  followed  by  his  children  to  the 
tomb  ;  the  mother,  who  once  poisoned  the  nutriment  of  her 
bosom,   to  preserve  her  little  babe   from    the  anticipated 
troubles  of  protracted  life,  now  gives  that  babe  to  its  Saviour; 
the  devoted  Hindoo,  who  once  panted  to  be  crushed  under 
the  clotted  wheels  of  his  idol,  is  now  telling  what  God  has 
done  for  his  soul.     Already  have  the  Missionaries  of  Christ 
begun  to  smother  the  fires  of  the  widow's  pile,  to  arrest  the 
immolations  of  Juggernaut,  and  to  redeem  the  endearing 
loveliness  of  woman  from  the  degradation  to  which  every 
country  but  Christendom  has  consigned  her.     The  night  is 
far  spent ;  the  day  is  at  hand  ;  Chistianity  is  awaking  from 
the  slumber  of  centuries,  and  moving  on  with  acceler  ited 
triumph.     Genius,  and  learning,  and  office,  are  weaving 
laurels  for  her  brow,  and  adding  their  hosannas  to  the  thun- 
dering acclamations  which  announce  her  magnificent  march. 
The  whole  world  is  in   motion.     The  jubilee   of  earth  is 
commenced.    The  dove  has  gone  out  of  the  ark,  and  brought 
back  the  signal  that  the  waters  are  retiring.    On  every  shore 
are  displayed  the  banners  of  the  Cross.     You  may  see  thenj 
waving  from  the  frozen  ledges  of  Greenland  to  the  burning 
sands  of  Sierra  Leone ;  from  the  isles  of  the  Pacific  to  the 
banks  of  the  Ganges  ;  from  the  snows  of  the  poles  to  the 
scorching  suns  of  the  equator.     The  Indian  is  burning  his 
Shaster,  the  Arab  his  Koran,  and  the  Hottentot  his  conse- 
crated relics.     The  tenant  of  every  soil  is  cheered  by  the 
tidings  of  pardon,  and  the  complexion  of  every  climate  irra- 
diated by  the  hope  of  immortality.     The  Gospel — the  ever- 
lasting Gospel — the  Gospel  of  the  God  of  peace  and  of  love, 
is  beginning  to  extend  ;  and  it  will  extend,  and  extend,  and 
extend,  till  the  ruins  of  Sin,  amidst  the  blaze  of  the  last  con- 
>flagration,  shall  be  lost  in  the  splendors  of  eternal  day. 


PRACTICAL    ADMONITIONS.  207 

But  from  reflections  so  grand  and  animating,  I  must  turn 
to  another  theme.  The  period  has  arrived,  when  personal 
obligations,  as  well  as  the  interests  of  the  infant  flock  over 
which  I  have  been  called  to  preside,  require  that  I  should 
leave  this  city.  Never  in  my  life  have  I  cherished  a  more 
sincere  design  than  that  of  returning  to  the  people  of  my 
charge  ;  but  I  know  not  how  it  is,  and  perhaps  it  is  weak- 
ness to  confess  it,  but  I  feel  an  unaccountable  presentiment 
that  I  shall  never  meet  you  again.  O,  my  God  !  is  this  the 
last  time  ?  Will  the  return  of  November  find  this  voice 
stilled  in  death,  and  this  frame  mouldering  under  the  clods 
of  the  valley  ?  If  it  should  be  so,  I  can  only  say,  that  the 
kindness  and  affection  I  have  found  here  will  animate  the 
last  prayer  of  my  heart  for  your  happiness.  But  whatever 
may  become  of  me,  I  beseech  you  go  forward  with  the  un- 
dertaking in  which  you  have  embarked.  Discard  the  in- 
centives of  sectarian  rivalry,  and  build  a  church  for  your- 
selves, your  children,  your  city,  and  your  God.  Above  all, 
prepare  for  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ.  O,  when  I  cast 
my  eye  through  the  pews  where  you  are  now  sitting,  and 
remember  the  awful  pestilence  which  has  so  lately  shrouded 
this  place  in  mourning,  I  cannot  repress  the  inquiry.  Who 
of  our  number,  before  the  summer  is  closed,  will  be  sleeping 
in  yonder  grave-yard  ?  For  whom  is  that  funeral  knell  to 
be  next  sounded,  which  within  three  days  has  twice  rung  its 
admonitions  in  our  ears  ?  And  if  I  should  live  to  return, 
which  of  you  shall  I  find  missing  from  the  dear  little  circle 
of  friendship  ?  Ye  saints  of  the  living  God,  farewell.  Keep 
near  the  hill  of  Calvary ;  and  as  \ou  cluster  in  gratitude 
and  devotion  around  the  Cross  on  which  your  Saviour  ex- 
pired, forget  not  to  pray  for  your  pastor.  Farewell,  ye  who 
are  seeking  an  interest  in  Jesus ;  do  not  despond  ;  the  dark- 
est hour  is  nearest  to  day.  It  was  not  till  Peter  had  begun 
to  sink  that  his  Redeemer  rescued  him.   And,  0,  ye  votaries 


208  SERMON  VIII. 

of  the  world,  what  shall  I  say  to  you  ?  The  sand  is  rapidly 
wasting  that  measures  your  existence,  and  yet  must  I  leave 
you  impenitent !  Listen  to  my  parting  words  :  When  you 
hear  that  I  am  laid  in  the  dust,  remember  that  I  warned  you 
to  think  of  eternity  !     I  have  done. 

Once  more,  my  dear  people,  I  bid  you  a  long,  and  God 
only  knows,  but  a  last  farewell. 


ON  THE  INSPIRATION  OP  THE  SCRIPTURES.     209 


SERMON  IX. 

"All  Scripture  is  given  by  inspiration  of  God." 

2  Tim.,  iii.  16. 

This  passage  has  already  been  partly  discussed  on  the 
last  Sabbath.  After  enumerating  at  that  time  the  princi- 
pal arguments  on  which  the  sacred  writings  grounded  their 
claim  to  a  divine  origin,  it  was  proposed  that  the  exercises 
of  the  present  evening  should  be  devoted  to  the  objections  by 
which  that  doctrine  has  been  most  commonly  assailed.  Con- 
formably with  these  arrangements,  therefore,  we  now  be- 
gin with  the  considerations  supposed  to  invalidate  the  au- 
thority of  the  sacred  Scriptures,  among  which  one  of  great 
celebrity  is,  that  so  small  a  portion  of  mankind  has  pos- 
sessed them.  The  boon,  it  is  said,  has  been  granted  only 
to  one-fifth  of  the  computed  population  of  the  earth,  while 
the  remainder  are  enveloped  in  darkness.  This,  I  confess, 
is  a  specious  argument.  In  reply,  I  forbear  to  remark,  that 
those  nations  which  are  ignorant  of  Revelation  have  con- 
signed themselves  to  ignorance  by  their  own  folly  and  guilt ; 
I  only  say,  that  if  we  adopt  the  singular  method  of  reason- 
ing down  facts  by  presumptive  evidence,  we  shall  prove  too 
much.  Suppose  the  Bible  to  be  a  fabrication,  I  would  ask, 
how  a  benevolent  God  can  enlighten  and  civilize  one  part  of 
the  world  and  leave  the  rest  to  debasement  ?  Why  is  one 
country  seen  in  chains  while  another  is  free  and  happy  ? 
Why  is  idolatry  wielding  its  iron  sceptre  over  so  many  mil- 
lions of  our  race,  while  we  are  enjoying — what  shall  I  say, 
the  blessings  of  the  Bible  ?  no — the  refined  and  manly  im- 
provements, if  you  please,  of  infidelity  1  How  comes  all  this, 
ii^  as  we  are  told  by  those  who  are  too  wise  to  believe  the  sa- 


210  iSERMON  IX.  ' 

cred  Scriptures,  there  be  a  God  of  mercy  at  the  helm  of  the 
universe  ?  But  perhaps  they  tell  us  that  the  human  mind  will, 
ere  long,  emerge  from  its  degradation  and  throw  off  the 
shackles  of  ignorance  and  error.  Here,  however,  we  are, 
at  all  events,  on  a  level  with  them,  for  we  can  and  do  re- 
tort, that  the  religion  of  the  Bible  is  not  restricted  to  a  day 
or  an  age  ; — it  looks  forward  to  centuries  which  will  yet 
record  its  triumphs — to  generations  which  will  yet  catch 
and  communicate  its  tidings — -and  to  a  world  which  is  soon 
to  be  filled  with  its  influence  and  renovated  with  its  glories. 
Besides  this,  it  may  be  observed,  that  the  only  necessity 
of  a  Revelation  arose  from  the  guilt  of  mankind.  Now,  if 
they  have  actually  fallen  from  their  innocence  and  extin- 
guished the  opportunity  of  their  own  return  to  God,  why 
should  they  call  upon  Him  to  remedy  the  abuse  of  one  fa- 
vor by  the  gift  of  another  ?  Is  it  not  confessed  on  all  hands, 
if  any  thing  at  all  be  confessed,  that  it  was  unmerited 
mercy  alone  which  gave  us  the  sacred  Scriptures  ?  Surely, 
then,  mercy  ought  to  be  at  liberty  to  do  what  it  will  with 
its  own.  A  claim  to  equality  must  rest  on  equal  rights ;  but 
when  none  of  the  claimants  pretend  to  any  right,  why  should 
one  portion  complain  for  being  refused  a  gratuity  which 
is  bestowed  on  others  ?  Just  analogize  the  argument  in 
the  works  of  Providence,  and  see  where  it  will  lead.  Why 
ought  not  an  idiot  to  complain  because  his  neighbor  has  the 
perfect  faculties  of  the  mind  ?  Why  may  not  an  honest 
beggar  complain  because  hundreds,  who  are  actually  as  des- 
titute of  honesty  and  character  as  he  is  of  wealth,  are  roll- 
ing in  plenty  ?  The  truth  is,  there  is  no  stopping  this  prin- 
ciple when  we  have  once  set  it  in  motion.  A  poor  man 
may  complain  because  others  are  rich ;  a  stupid  man  be- 
cause others  are  intelligent ;  a  Hindoo,  because  he  was  not 
made  a  Christian  ;  and  a  Christian,  because  he  was  not  made 
an  angel.     Deists  might  object  to  the  Bible  on  the  ground 


ON  THE  INSPIRATION  OP  THE  SCRIPTURES.     211 

of  its  limited  diffusion,  and  Atheists  might  oppose  the  exist- 
ence of  God  by  pleading  the  disorder  and  sin  which  are 
visible  in  His  works. 

Now,  let  any  man  who  takes  such  ground  against  the  sa- 
cred Scriptures  first  begin  to  explain  the  difficulties  which 
are  every  day  rising  in  real  life.  Let  him  not  be  so  eager 
at  presumption  till  he  has  silenced  the  language  of  fact. 
When  he  shows  the  world  why  the  allotments  of  Provi- 
dence are  unequal,  we  will  tell  him  in  return  why  the  sa- 
cred Scriptures  are  unequally  distributed.  But  who  are 
they  that  feel  so  much  for  those  who  are  left  destitute  of 
the  Bible  ?  Is  it  the  pious,  or  is  it  the  skeptical  ?  I  ask  the 
question,  because  it  would  be  strange  that  those  who  care 
nothing  about  their  own  souls  should  feel  so  tender  a  con- 
cern for  the  souls  of  others.  But  whoever  they  may  be, 
why  should  they  cling  so  closely  to  this  objection  ?  Do 
they  suppose  that  all  who  have  not  the  Bible  in  their  hands 
must  necessarily  be  lost  ?  Not  at  all.  They  invariably 
disclaim  the  doctrine  ;  and  if  they  do  not,  I  do.  What  may 
be  the  opinion  of  others  I  know  not ;  but  for  myself,  I  should 
be  unhappy,  or,  if  I  were  not,  I  should  deserve  to  be,  in  coming 
to  the  cold  and  chilling  conclusion  that  all  the  Heathen,  in 
every  age,  will  finally  perish.  It  is  true  that  they,  no  more 
than  ourselves,  can  merit  salvation.  Their  repentance,  their 
sincerity,  their  sacrifices,  have  no  more  intrinsic  efficacy 
than  our  own  would  have.  But  the  death  of  Christ,  whe- 
ther they  ever  heard  of  it  or  not,  has  rendered  it  consistent 
for  God  to  exercise  mercy  towards  all  his  creatures — the 
heathen  as  well  as  us  ;  and  why  suppose  they  may  not 
share  it  ?  Do  you  say  that  all  men  are  commanded  to  be- 
lieve in  Christ,  on  the  penalty  of  perdition  ?  I  admit  it,  in 
cases  where  Christ  has  been  known  ;  but  God  does  not  re- 
quire absurdities.  No  command  can  be  binding  where 
it  was  never  heard  of.     We  might  just  as  well  affirm,  that 


212  SERMON  IX. 

infants  will  be  lost  for  not  believing  in  Christ.  Do  you  say, 
then,  that  on  this  reasoning  all  Heathen  will  be  saved,  be- 
cause we  hope  for  the  universal  salvation  of  infants  ?  I 
reply,  Not  at  all.  We  have  reason  to  believe  that  an  af- 
fecting proportion  of  the  Heathen  world  will  perish,  but 
they  will  not  perish  for  not  believing  in  Christ  if  they  never 
heard  of  him  ;  and  as  to  those  who  are  saved,  it  will  not  be 
because  they  are  too  sincere,  too  ignorant,  or  too  conscien- 
tious, to  make  it  just  to  condemn  them,  but  on  the  same 
ground  that  any  of  us  are  saved,  because,  since  the  medi- 
ation of  Christ,  God  can  consistently  pardon  sin,  and  there- 
fore it  is  no  more  impossible  that  He  should  pardon  the 
Heathen  than  that  He  should  pardon  us.  In  both  cases  He 
hath  mercy  on  whom  He  will  have  mercy,  and  whom  He 
will  He  hardeneth.  It  may  be  inquired,  however,  If  the  Hea- 
then can  be  saved  without  literally  believing  in  Christ, 
what  need  of  sending  them  the  Gospel  ?  This  question  is 
best  answered  by  asking  another.  It  was  just  asserted  that 
the  atonement  of  Christ  has  made  it  consistent  for  God  to 
forgive  sin  in  all  His  creatures.  Every  obstacle  which  be- 
fore existed  is  removed.  Suppose  it  were  asked,  then, 
what  need  of  a  Bible  at  all  ?  What  need  of  our  hearing  any 
thing  of  Christ  ?  Why  might  He  not  have  come  into  the 
world  without  all  the  parade  of  prophecy  and  types  and 
figures,  and  be  encrucified  in  some  retired  corner,  where 
the  thing  would  have  been  directly  forgotten,  if  the  great 
object  would  all  this  time  be  answered — if  the  justice  of  God 
would  have  permitted  the  pardon  of  our  sins  then  as  well  as 
now  ?  It  is  not  necessary  to  say,  my  hearers,  that  if  any 
man  expects  the  pulpit  to  degrade  itself  by  answering  ques- 
tions like  these,  he  will  be  much  mistaken. 

It  is  another  evidence,  we  are  informed,  that  the  sacred 
Scriptures  are  not  inspired,  that  they  contain  contradic- 
tions.    This  objection  is  very  often  brought  up,  and  as  often 


ON  THE  INSPIRATION  OF  THE  SCRIPTURES.     213 

prostrated.  VVhy  does  not  somebody  lay  his  hand  on  one 
plain  contradiction,  and  show  it  to  the  world.  A  single 
case  of  this  kind  would  put  the  question  forever  to  rest ;  and 
surely  he  must  have  an  unfeeling  heart  who  can  see  such 
men  as  Bacon,  Paschal,  Locke,  Newton,  and  Leibnitz,  the 
dupes  of  credulity — who  can  see  whole  cities,  and  kingdoms, 
and  continents  enlisted  in  the  ranks  of  Christianity,  and 
marching  forward  in  the  light  and  warmth  of  a  pretended 
Revelation — who  can  see  all  this,  and  yet  not  speak  one  little 
word  to  arrest  the  colossal  delusion  !  But  where  are  these 
reputed  contradictions  ?  We  are  perhaps  directed  to  the 
cosmogony  of  the  Pentateuch.  Moses  says  in  the  outset 
that  God  made  light,  but,  as  if  he  were  not  philosopher 
enough  to  know  that  the  sun  is  the  origin  of  all  light,  we 
are  told  that  he  does  not  mention  the  creation  of  the  sun 
until  the  fourth  day.  Now,  my  hearers,  the  first  passage 
has  been  always  deemed  proleptical — a  general  account,  af- 
terwards drawn  out  into  details  ;  or,  if  the  objector  does  not 
like  this  explanation,  we  shall  call  upon  him  to  prove  that 
the  sun  must  necessarily  have  been  made  prior  to  light.  It 
is  granted  that  the  sun  is  now  the  fountain  of  light.  But 
let  him  show  that  the  fluid  of  light  was  not  difTused  origin- 
ally like  caloric  now,  and  that  a  collection  of  it  into  one 
body,  for  obvious  purposes,  did  not  make  the  sun.  We  do 
not  assert  the  theory,  but  we  affirm  that  it  would  be  war- 
ranted by  the  holy  text,  and  that  genuine  philosophy  has 
not  a  word  to  say  in  opposition  to  it.  Again  :  it  is  said 
that  a  contradiction  appears  in  the  different  periods  assign- 
ed for  the  continuance  of  the  children  of  Israel  in  Egypt. 
In  one  place  we  read  of  four  hundred  years,  in  another  of 
four  hundred  and  thirty.  This,  it  is  true,  looks  inexplica- 
ble at  first  sight,  but  a  little  examination  disperses  the  whole 
difficulty.  We  learn  that  the  time  is  computed  from  dif- 
ferent dates — in  one  passage  from  the  birth  of  Isaac,  and 
10* 


2J4  SERMON    IX. 

in  the  other,  from  the  period  of  Abraham's  leaving  the  place 
of  his  nativity.  In  general,  however,  with  regard  to  nu- 
merical difficulties  in  sacred  Scripture,  it  is  surprising  they 
are  not  more  frequent ;  for  when  we  recollect  that,  both  in 
Hebrew  and  in  Greek,  the  letters  of  the  alphabet  were  em- 
ployed to  represent  numbers,  we  may  well  wonder  that  the 
common  and  often  very  close  resemblance  of  one  letter  to 
the  other  has  not  created  greater  confusion  in  the  text,  be- 
cause, in  the  first  place,  no  one  pretends  that  the  transcri- 
bers were  inspired,  and  besides,  with  respect  to  numbers, 
mistakes  might  easily  occur,  because  the  copier  is  not  as- 
sisted, as  in  other  cases,  by  the  scope  of  the  connexion  in 
which  they  stand. 

Again,  it  is  alleged,  that  the  sacred  Scriptures  contradict 
not  only  themselves,  but  the  fitness  and  propriety  of  things, 
by  describing  God  as  requiring  Abraham  to  offer  his  son  in 
sacrifice — as  permitting  the  Israelites  to  borrow  from  the 
Egyptians,  and  afterwards,  secretly,  to  leave  the  country — 
and  as    sanctioning,  and    even    commanding,  the    exter- 
mination of  the  people  of  Canaan.    As  to  the  exacted  ob- 
lation of  Isaac  by  his  father,  we  may  ask,  where  the  power 
of  life  and  death  can  rest,  if  not  with  the  Creator  ?     It  was 
a  trial  of  the  patriarch's  faith,  whiah  certainly  ought   to 
have  been  stronger  than  parental  affection ;  and  as  soon  as 
he  had  evinced  this,  the  knife  was  arrested,  and  his  son  re- 
leased.    Is  there  any  thing  more  strange  in  this,  than  that 
God  should  call  hundreds  to  attest  their  faith,  not  merely  by 
the  prospect,  but  by  the  actual  reality  of  violent  death  ? 
Have  not  the  sons  of  other  parents  been  doomed  to  destinies 
still  more  dreadful  ?     Have  they  not  died,  in  spite  of  pa- 
rental prayers,  and  parental  love ;  have  they  not  died  at  the 
stake,  in  the  dungeon,  or,  more  and  worse  than  all,  in  the 
horrors  of  a  guilty  and  lacerated  conscience  ?  With  respect 
to  the  Israelites  borrowing  from  the  Egyptians,  we  remark, 


ON  THE  INSPIRATION  OF  THE  SCRIPTURES.    215 

that  the  expression  conveys  to  the  mind    an  idea  entirely 
incorrect.     What  the  word  borrow  might  have  signified  two 
hundred  years  ago,  when  the  present  translation  of  the  Bi- 
ble was  made,  it  is  difficult  to  say  ;  but  this  much  is  cer- 
tain, that  if  the  Septuagint,  the  Hebrew,  the  Vulgate,  Syri- 
ac,  Chaldee,  Persian,  Samaritan,   and  Coptic  versions,  to- 
gether with  nearly  all  the  old  English  translations,  except 
our  own,  are  to  be  regarded,  the  true  word  is  demand,  in- 
stead of  borrow.    But,  suppose  God  did  authorize  his  people 
to  borrow  certain  articles,  with  no  intention   of  returning 
them.    He  evidently  had  a  right  to  do  so.     But  you  say 
the  example  is  injurious.      To  whom  ?     To  the  believer  1 
I  never  heard  of  one  either  complaining  of  the  fact,  or  mis- 
led by  the  precedent.     To  the  Infidel  ?     No,  for  instead  of 
being  deceived  by  the  example,  he  is  the  very  first  man   to 
detect  its  reputed  impropriety,  and  expose  it  to  the  world. 
Respecting  the  command    to  exterminate  the  nations  of 
Canaan,  we  remark  that  they  had  provoked  the  Divine  ven- 
geance, and  no  one  will  doubt  that  God  has  the  right  of  in- 
flicting punishments  at  pleasure. 

Now,  when  we  reflect  that  the  supreme  Being,  at  that  pe- 
riod, spoke  to  men  directly,  or,  if  T  may  say  so,  in  person, 
where  is  the  wonder  that  those  whom  He  thus  certified  of 
His  will  beyond  the  possibility  of  mistake,  should  be  em- 
ployed as  instruments  to  execute  it  ?  Let  us  test  the  case 
by  a  famiHar  parallel :  Suppose  a  city  of  South  America 
were  to  be  destroyed  by  an  earthquake.  This  would  evi- 
dently be  nothing  unjust.  It  would  be  regarded  as  a  mys- 
terious, but,  at  the  same  time,  as  a  righteous  providence  of 
God.  Suppose,  again,  that  instead  of  this,  the  Supreme 
Being  should  instruct  an  individual  to  apply  a  torch  to 
the  public  magazines,  and  blow  the  city  to  atoms.  We 
might,  perhaps,  feel  at  the  first  a  sensation  of  horror, 
but  the  moment  we  knew  that  the  man    who    fired    the 


216  SERMON  IX. 

train  was  infallibly   authorized   by    the  Almighty,    could 
we,  with  the  least  semblance  of  reason,  complain?     Would 
the  dispensation  be  more  cruel,  or  more  unjust,  in  one 
case  than  in   the  other?      There    is  but   one    remaining 
instance   of  seeming   contradiction   which    we  have  now 
leisure  to  discuss.    I  mean  the  different  genealogies  of  our 
Saviour,  recorded  in  the  New  Testament.     This  is  capable 
of  conclusive  explanation  ;  but  if  it  were  not,  I  should  think 
it  an  evidence  rather  for,  than  against  the  writers  ;   for,  at 
all  events,  it  would  prove  that  they  had  no  previous  under- 
standing— no  comparison  of   notes — because,  if  so,  their 
genealogies  would  have  talHed  with  each  other.     But  to  re- 
turn.    Matthew  gives  us  one  genealogy,  and  Luke  a  differ- 
ent.     Now,  it  was  through  Joseph,  his  reputed   father,  that 
our  Lord  was  accounted  in  law   a  member  of  the  ancient 
royal  family.      Unless  this  fact  were  established,  he  would 
not  have  answered  the  character  of  Messiah.     Matthew  has 
therefore  given  us  his  legal  (Zescent,  according  to  the  pub- 
lic records  kept  by  the  Government.     On  the  other  hand, 
as  it  was  necessary  that  he  should  have  descended  naturally 
as  well  as  legally  from  David,   Luke  has  given  us  his  lineal 
genealogy  by  tracing  the  progenitors  of  Mary,  his  mother. 
So  far,  then,  from  a  contradiction  in  the  two  statements, 
they  furnish  a  reciprocal  testimony  to  each  other's   truth ; 
because    they    publish  to  the  world  a   genealogical  table, 
which,  if  it  were  false,  the  Jewish  archives  were  always 
able,  and  those  who  kept  them,  always  eager,  to  disprove  and 
destroy. 

A  third  objection  to  the  inspiration  of  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures is  taken  from  the  supposed  sufficiency  of  the  light  of 
nature.  This  is  mentioned  last,  not  because  it  is  deemed 
the  least,  but  because  it  is  commonly  made  a  kind  of  rally- 
ing point,  to  which  cavillers  retreat  when  their  ranks  are 
broken  in  every  other  direction.     And  what  is  the  light   of 


ON  THE  INSPIRATION  OP  THE  SCRIPTURES.    217 

nature  ?  Is  it  the  character  of  God  displayed  in  His  works  ? 
Is  it  the  manifestation  of  power,  wisdom,  and  goodness,  we 
meet  around  us  ?  Is  it  this  which  is  sufficient  ?  I  admit 
it  is  so  ;  for  Beings  who  have  never  sinned — but  not  for  us 
— it  teaches  no  pardon  for  guilt ;  and  whatever  else  it  may 
be  calculated  to  teach,  we  have  no  disposition  to  learn.  So 
is  the  light  of  the  natural  sun  sufficient.  It  would  do  no 
good  to  make  another  sun.  But  what  kind  of  sufficiency 
is  this  to  a  blind  man  1  Does  he  see  any  better  on  that  ac- 
count ?  So  are  Newton's  principia  sufficient  to  make  a 
mathematician.  But  this  is  no  comfort  to  a  man  who  can- 
not read — who  knows  nothing  of  numbers — who  has  not 
intellect  enough  to  understand  the  book.  Test  the  theory 
by  fact.  What  kind  of  sufficiency  does  the  light  of  nature 
bring  to  the  Hindoos,  the  Hottentots,  the  New-Hollanders, 
the  savages  of  our  own  wilderness,  or,  still  more,  to  the 
cannibal  Caraibs  and  Arancanians  ?  I  admit  that  these  are 
extreme  cases  ;  they  are  drawn  from  nations  in  which  the 
intellectual  powers  seem  nearly  extinguished.  But  where 
else  ought  we  to  look  ?  What  instances  more  in  point  than 
these,  does  the  argument  require  ?  For  surely,  if  the  light 
of  nature  be  sufficient  at  all,  it  were  strange  that  it  should 
not  be  sufficient  for  the  children  of  nature.  But  take  a 
different  £;et  of  examples.  Go  back  to  the  reign  of  Hea- 
thenism, and  explore  every  nook  and  corner  of  antiquity 
for  evidence.  Select,  if  we  will,  the  most  profound  and 
venerable  sages  who  ever  flourished  under  the  dynasty  of 
unaided  reason  ;  and  what  have  we  gained  then  ?  We  gain 
the  testimony  of  Plato,  that  it  is  not  possible  for  mortal  man, 
without  a  Revelation,  to  discover  any  thing  concerning  reli- 
gious truth.  We  find  Socrates  teaching,  that  men  cannot 
know  even  for  what  to  pray  in  a  right  manner,  unless  God 
reveal  it  to  them  directly.  We  hear  Alcibiades,  Aristotle, 
and  Plutarch,  confessing  the  necessity  of  a  special  message 


218  SERMON    IX. 

from  Heaven,  to  clear  away  the  darkness  of  nature  ;  and 
Jamblicher  declares,  in  his  Life  of  Pythagoras,  that  it  can- 
not  be  known  what  things  are  pleasing  to  God,  unless  we 
attain  the  knowledge  of  them  by  some  Divine  means.  But 
why  do  £  multiply  proof?  What  was  the  object  of  the  nu- 
merous forms  of  pretended  Revelation  scattered  through  all 
antiquity  ?  What  meant  the  oracles  of  Apollo,  Dodona, 
and  Jupiter  Amnion  ?  What  was  intended  by  the  myste- 
ries of  Ceres,  Bona  Dea,  and  Eleusis  ?  If  they  meant  any 
thing,  they  indicated  the  necessity  of  a  Revelation,  not 
only  for  religious  purposes,  but  for  the  political  government 
of  the  state,  and  the  welfare  of  the  people  at  large.  This 
was  the  wisdom  of  Heathen  philosophy  ;  and  when  I  hear 
of  the  boasted  sufficiency  of  the  light  of  nature,  I  cannot 
but  think  that  the  assertion,  whether  true  or  not,  is  not  re- 
markable for  modesty.  For  nature  alone  can  certainly 
teach  us  no  more  than  it  taught  the  Heathen  sages ;  and 
when  a  caviller,  who  has  all  his  life  had  the  advantage  of 
Christianity,  begins  to  smuggle  truths  from  the  Bible,  and 
to  palm  them  off  under  the  hypocritical  label  of  light  of 
nature,  he  looks,  as  somebody  has  expressed  it,  like  a 
dwarf  mounted  on  the  shoulders  of  a  giant,  and  boasting 
that  he  exceeds  the  stature  of  ordinary  men.  But  I 
will  place  the  argument  in  another  attitude  :  It  may  be  said 
that  the  philosophers  just  enumerated,  although  naturally 
desirous  of  accession  to  their  knowledge,  were  yet  sufficient- 
ly acquainted  with  the  truth.  I  have  no  disposition,  my 
hearers,  to  touch  a  single  laurel  which  decorates  their  brows. 
I  admire  their  talents,  respect  their  virtues,  and  cherish  their 
memory.  But  that  they  were  sufficiently  acquainted  with 
the  truth,  I  do  not  believe,  for  it  is  not  the  fact.  Look 
where  we  will,  into  the  purest  of  their  creeds,  whether  of 
fabulous,  civil,  or  philosophical  theology,  we  find  some, 
or  all  of  them,  comprising  doctrines  from  which  we  instinc- 


ON  THE  INSPIRATION  OF  THE  SCRIPTURES.    219 

tively  recoil.  The  greatest  men  of  the  age  inculcated  the 
most  absurd  polytheism  and  idolatry.  They  invested  the 
heavenly  bodies,  the  spirits  of  the  dead,  the  affections  of 
the  mind,  and  even  the  phenomena  of  nature,  with  the  attri- 
butes of  Deity.  They  presented  to  the  people,  beings  ac- 
knowledged as  devils,  clothed  them  with  divine  perfection, 
and  worshipped  them  accordingly.  They  believed,  that  be- 
tween virtue  and  vice  there  was  no  important  difference, 
except  such  as  might  be  erected  by  law.  They  ascribed 
the  origin  of  the  world  to  a  malicious  conflict  of  evil  spirits 
alone,  without  the  agency  or  interposition  of  Omnipotence^ 
Some  of  them  denied  the  existence  of  all  Providence  ;  oth- 
ers affirmed  the  inspiration  of  their  own  writings.  The  in- 
dulgence of  licentiousness  was  allowed — the  sensual  appe- 
tites left  unrestrained — a  community  of  wives  sanctioned — 
the  right  of  suicide  enforced — and  the  revenge  of  injuries 
taught  and  exemplified  ;  and  it  is  worthy  of  remark,  that 
these  idolatrous  and  polytheistic  absurdities  seemed  to  gain 
instead  of  losing  ground,  while  the  countries  in  which  they 
were  licensed  were  moving  forward  to  civilization  and  re- 
finement. In  short,  to  use  the  words  of  Puffendorff,  "  what 
they  called  religion  was  chiefly  instituted  for  the  benefit  of 
the  state,  but  did  not  instruct  the  people  concerning  the 
Being  and  Will  of  God,  nor  how  they  ought  to  regulate  their 
practice  and  actions  so  as  to  please  God."  Can  any  one 
look  on  a  picture  like  this,  taken  from  all  the  deformity, 
and  all  the  awfulness  of  actual  life  ?  Can  he  do  this,  and 
seriously  tell  us  that  the  light  of  nature  is  sufficient — that 
the  Bible  has  not  reclaimed  the  human  mind  from  degrada- 
tion, and  human  hope  from  obscurity  and  conjecture  ?  If 
so,  let  him  coolly  sit  down  and  calculate  the  miseries  which 
that  Bible  has  terminated — the  ignorance  it  has  instructed 
— the  excesses  it  has  abolished — and  the  wide  and  wither- 
ing moral  desolation  to  which  it  has  said,  "  Hitherto  shalt 


220  SERMON     IX. 

thou  come,  but  no  further."  I  have  no  idea  of  throwing 
over  this  subject  any  rhetorical  flourish.  It  is  as  it  ought 
to  be,  a  simple  question  of  fact.  Where  were  the  perse- 
cuted Helotes,  periodically  massacred  in  cold  blood,  to  check 
the  increase  of  slave  population  ?  Where  were  human  ob- 
lations— often  sons  or  daughters — offered  in  the  public 
markets,  while  the  parents  were  forced  to  preside  in  the  sa- 
crifice? Where  were  celebrated,  in  open  day,  the  obscene 
Lupercalia — the  Ludi  Florales — the  Aphrodisia — the  Thes- 
mophoria — and  the  festivals  of  Bacchus  and  Ceres, — scenes 
which  it  is  almost  guilty  to  recollect  ?  Where  was  the 
abominable  crime  of  poederasty*  comprised  in  the  al- 
lowances and  prescriptions  of  public  law  ?  Where  were  cre- 
ditors permitted  to  sell  the  debtor — and  if  that  were  not 
enough,  to  put  him  to  death  ;  and  if  that  were  not  enough, 
to  cut  his  body  in  pieces,  and  divide  it  before  his  wife  and 
family  ?  Where  were  deformed  children  torn  from  the 
mother's  embrace,  and  stifled  by  an  order  of  the  common- 
wealth ?  Where  were  the  inhuman  gladiatory  shows, 
which  reduced  murder  to  system  and  amusement,  and 
clothed  a  whole  community  in  perpetual  mourning  ?  I  mean 
not  that  all  these  crimes  were  chargeable  on  the  philoso- 
phers. Many  undoubtedly  would  have  been  glad  to  arrest 
them  ;  but  they  could  not.  The  light  of  nature  furnish- 
ed  neither  sufficient  arguments  to  urge,  nor  sufficient  mo- 
tives to  exhibit.  And  now,  that  the  Word  of  God  Al- 
mighty  has  done  the  work,  shall  we  ascribe  our  blessings, 
our  intelligence,  our  hopes,  to  the  light  of  nature  ? 
Hopes,  did  I  say  ?  Show  me  a  single  hope  of  Heathenism, 
which  could  ever  unclench  the  nails  of  a  coffin  ?  Point  to 
the  doctrine  of  the  Resurrection  of  the  Body  in  Greece  or 
Rome  ?     And,  above  all,  find  there  a  scheme  for  pardoning 

*  See  Rom.  i,  27.     See  also  Leland's  Adv.  &  Necess. ;  Dick  on  In- 
spiration ;  and  Potter's  Gr.  Antiquities. 


ON  THE  INSPIRATION  OP  THE  SCRIPTURES.    221 

sinners.  Hunt  among  their  groves — academies— amphi- 
theatres,  for  a  Saviour's  Cross,  and  a  Saviour's  blood.  Here 
it  is,  my  brethren,  here,  where  the  immortal  soul  is  at 
stake,  that  the  light  of  nature  is  the  darkness  of  Egypt. 
Not  a  ray  does  it  shed  over  the  grave — not  a  glimpse  does 
it  open  to  the  disclosures  of  eternity.  And,  shall  we  be 
told  that  the  sacred  Scriptures,  which  have  dispersed  this 
night  of  gloom  and  horror,  are  not  inspired,  because  the 
light  of  nature  is  sufficient  ?  Have  we  been  basking  in  all 
their  meridian  blaze,  from  our  cradles  to  this  hour,  only  to 
doubt  now,  not  merely  whether  they  have  come  from  God, 
but,  whether  we  might  not  have  known,  and  loved,  and 
glorified  Him  well  enough  without  them  ?  My  hearers,  I 
dismiss  these  objections  for  ever.  You  can  appreciate  their 
force.  You  can  say,  whether  they  will  stand  the  test  of 
the  day  of  judgment. 

In  closing  the  subject  of  Inspiration,  permit  me  to 
present  you  a  single  thought :  Looking  around  us  in  life, 
we  find  a  variety  of  opinions  in  regard  to  the  Bi- 
'  ble.  Some  persons  disbelieve  it  entirely  ;  others  have  seri- 
ous doubts  respecting  it ;  and  a  third  class  reject  some  of  its 
doctrines,  which  are  essential  to  salvation.  All  these  men, 
too,  pretend  to  be,  and  I  have  no  doubt  they  commonly 
are,  sincere  in  their  sentiments.  They  seem  as  confident  in 
the  correctness  of  their  opinions  as  they  could  be,  if  the 
opinions  actually  were  correct.  Now,  what  is  to  be  done  ? 
Here  is  a  portion  of  society,  who  say  they  have  examined 
the  subject — who  profess  themselves  open  to  conviction — 
but  all  this  time  are  fostering  erroneous  views.  This  is 
certainly  an  unfortunate  dilemma — but  what  is  the  remedy 
for  it  ?  How  shall  a  man  help  himself,  who  sincerely  and 
confidently  believes  error  to  be  truth  ?  Why,  my  hearers, 
just  as  anybody  else  helps  himself,  who  has,  by  some  un- 
happy mistake,  got   in  trouble.     How  shall  a  man  help 


222  SERMON    IX. 

himself,  who,  through  uegHgence,  or  perhaps  intentionally, 
has  taken  laudanum,  and  fallen  into  a  stupor  ?  I  know  not 
— he  may,  or  he  may  not  awake — I  cannot  tell.  Just  so 
of  him  who  believes  error  to  be  truth.  Perhaps  he  may  one 
day  come  right,  or,  perhaps,  he  ma}"-  go  to  the  bar  of  Christ 
without  it.  Who  shall  say— who  shall  presume,  that  after 
God  has  given  us  a  Revelation,  which  he  thought  support- 
ed by  sufficient  evidence — after  he  has  taught  us  the  doc- 
trines of  grace  in  a  manner  which  he  thought  sufficiently 
clear, — who,  I  say,  dares  presume,  that  He  will  make 
provisos  and  exceptions  for  every  man  who  chooses  to  be- 
lieve something  else,  or  nothing  at  all  ? 


ON  SEARCHING   THE    SCRIPTURES.  223 


SERMON  X. 

"  And  searched  the  Scriptures  daily,  whether  those  things  were  so. 
Therefore  many  of  them  believed." 

Ads,  xvii.  11,  12, 

It  was  the  observation  of  a  great  Roman  philosopher,  that 
the  mass  of  mankind  derive  their  opinions  of  every  sort  from 
mere  prejudice.  Whether  the  remark  be  correct  or  not,  in 
its  entire  dimensions,  we  need  not  now  inquire.  Certain  it 
is,  for  who  with  his  eyes  open  can  doubt,  that  we  often  em- 
brace sentiments  on  trust,  and  permit  them  to  exercise  un- 
disputed dominion  over  the  mind,  while  at  the  same  time  we 
remain  ignorant  of  the  reasoning,  if  there  be  any,  to  which 
they  appeal  for  support.  Against  this  kind  of  feeling,  and 
against  the  positive  and  persecuting  spirit  which  it  always 
inspires,  the  apostle  Paul  was  called  incessantly  to  struggle. 
Look  at  him  where  we  will,  apart  from  the  instance  related 
in  the  text,  and  we  find  his  preaching  resisted  from  the  out- 
set ;  and  why  ?  Because  he  was  not  sheltered  by  the  Bible  ? 
Because  he  ever  swerved  from  that  great  statute-book,  which, 
and  which  alone,  he  ought  to  have  taught  ?  No  ;  none  of 
this.  The  complaint  always  took  another  direction  :  he 
neglected  the  traditions  of  the  elders ;  or  he  had  some  hard 
sayings  who  could  hear  them  ?  or  he  made  the  words  of 
truth  and  soberness  ring  rather  too  loudly  over  the  slumbers 
of  conscience.  This  was  his  crime  :  he  opposed  opinions  of 
long  standing,  and  peculiarly  comfortable  to  impenitence, 
whether  true  or  false  nobody  appeared  to  have  asked  ;  he 
opposed  them,  and  he  must  be  wrong.  To  this  convenient 
and  fashionable  logic,  I  have  already  said  there  was  one  il- 
lustrious exception.    When  the  apostle  visited  Berea,  a  town 


224  SERMON  X. 

of  Macedonia,  he  found  the  citizens  disposed  to  be  candid. 
They  felt  goaded,  indeed,  by  his  doctrines,  but  they  took  a 
manly  and  dignified  course.  They  did  themselves  the  jus- 
tice to  go  and  search  the  sacred  Scriptures  daily,  whether 
those  things  were  so  ;  and  the  consequence  was,  one  of  the 
most  natural  consequences,  too,  in  the  world,  that  many  of 
them  believed.  Now,  the  sentiment  which  the  text  first  dis- 
closes, is  one  which  sound  philosophy  and  common  sense 
conspire  to  confirm ;  and  that  is,  that  in  the  concerns  of 
religion  we  ought  ever  to  cherish  a  spirit  of  impartial  and 
industrious  inquiry  for  the  truth.  Indeed,  we  might  go  fur- 
ther, and  say  that  a  temper  of  this  kind  is  essential  to  every 
investigation  in  which  we  embark ;  but  it  is  peculiarly  so 
on  a  subject  which  involves  the  destinies  of  eternal  being, 
because  there  a  willing  ignorance  cannot  exculpate  the 
mistakes  it  may  harbor,  nor  does  the  conviction  of  error,  if 
it  arrive  at  too  late  a  period,  bring  with  it  the  certainty  of 
effectual  cure.  I  am  aware  that  to  intrust  every  man  with 
his  own  conscience,  and  with  his  own  opinions,  has  been 
pronounced  the  patronage  of  skepticism.  But  even  in  that 
case,  it  might  become  a  very  doubtful  problem,  whether  any 
thing  be  gained  in  forcing  a  man  to  receive  sentiments  by 
compulsion,  which  he  would  renounce  from  choice ;  or,  in 
other  words,  whether  he  had  better  be  an  infidel  or  a  hypo- 
crite,— whether  the  duplicity  of  pretending  to  good  principles 
be  a  desiraWe  substitute  for  the  candor  of  confessing  he  never 
had  any.  Be  this  as  it  may,  the  business  of  religion  lies 
exclusively  between  conscience  and  its  God.  To  pretend, 
therefore,  that  "  the  grace  of  God  which  bringeth  salvation" 
hath  not  "  appeared  unto  all  men,"  and  that  all  men  have 
not  equally  the  right  of  examining  the  credentials  it  bears, 
is  a  creed  to  which  the  world  is  either  too  old  or  too  young 
to  subscribe.  "  Ignorance  is"  no  longer  "  the  mother  of 
devotion ;"  and  how  far  soever  such  a  maxim  may  have 


ON    SEARCHING  THE    SCRIPTURES.  225 

suited  the  blindness  of  Pagan  idolatry,  or  the  brutality  of 
Moslem  fanaticism,  or  the  derelictions  of  the  Christian 
Church  in  the  dark  and  dismal  ages  which  gave  it  curren- 
cy, we  know,  or  ought  to  know,  better.  The  Bible  has 
no  statute  of  limitation.  It  invites  perusal — it  requires  scru- 
tiny— it  is  going  the  rounds  of  the  inhabited  world,  and 
knocking  at  every  house,  and  hovel,  and  heart,  for  admit- 
tance. Singular  indeed  would  it  be  that  Inspiration  itself 
has  eulogised  the  Bereans  for  searching  the  sacred  Scrip- 
tures daily,  if  they  were  not  permitted  to  search  them. 
Singular  that  the  apostles,  so  far  from  claiming  dominion 
over  the  faith  of  their  bi^thren,  should  exhort  them  to 
"  try  the  spirits,"  and  to  be  thoroughly  persuaded  in  their 
own  minds,  and  to  prove  all  things,  that  they  might  hold 
fast  that  which  was  good,  and  to  be  able  to  give  to  every 
one  that  inquired  a  ground  of  the  hope  that  was  in  them, 
and  to  search  the  sacred  Scriptures  for  the  very  best 
reasons  to  be  imagined,  because,  that  in  them  they  thought 
they  had  eternal  life.  And  if  we  go  higher  still, — if  we 
instance  the  Lord  Jesus  himself,  in  whom  alone  any  con- 
sistent claim  of  infallibility  can  rest, — how  strange  does  he 
appear  in  reasoning  with  the  Jews,  by  an  appeal  to  their 
own  prophets, — in  directing  them  carefully  to  consult  the 
sacred  volume,  to  see  whether  it  testified  of  him, — in  stoop- 
ing to  the  humblest  capacity,  to  enlighten,  and  discipline, 
and  instruct  it, — in  comparing,  explaining,  and  enforcing 
the  evidence  of  the  prophecies  and  miracles,  and  in  predi- 
cating the  condemnation  of  his  enemies  entirely  on  their 
voluntary  ignorance,  or  their  unreasonable  opposition.  How 
strange  is  all  this,  if  the  Bible  be  not  the  master  to  which 
every  individual  must  stand  or  fall  ?  I  have  no  wish  to  erect  a 
formal  hostility  to  any  ecclesiastical  restrictions  of  the  use  of 
the  Bible, — nor,  on  the  other  hand,  am  I  conscious  of  any 
particular  apprehensions  from  speaking  as  I  think.     But  I 


226  SERMON    X. 

do  believe,  that  if  any  thing  on  earth  be  common  property, 
it  is  the  sacred  Scriptures ;  and  not  only  so,  but  to  withhold 
from  the  meanest  intellect  its  rightful  access  to  them,  is  to 
exercise  despotism  over  the  mind  ;  and,  although  it  may  ex- 
tenuate the  guilt  of  sin  in  one  quarter,  it  gives  it  redoubled 
aggravation  in  another.  But,  after  all,  this  is  saying  but 
little.  The  text  not  only  establishes  the  right,  but  enforces 
the  duty,  of  reading  the  Bible.  This,  and  this  alone,  is  the 
volume  which  discloses  our  relations  to  the  Almighty.  The 
light  of  nature  may  do  much, — "  The  Heavens  may  declare 
the  glory  of  God,  and  the  firmament  show  His  handiwork," 
— but  nothing  short  of  a  Revelation  can  depict  Him  in  the 
attitude  of  dispensing  the  pardon  of  sin.  Victims  have 
bled — altars  have  smoked — the  annals  of  every  country 
have  been  crimsoned  with  the  records  of  propitiatory  death, 
— but  all  to  no  purpose.  It  is  Inspiration  alone  which  can 
safely  say  to  the  trembling  suppliant,  "  Thy  sins  are  forgiven 
thee."  By  how  much,  therefore,  we  are  sinners,  by  just 
so  much  does  the  Bible  become  invested  with  an  interest 
solemn  and  lasting  as  eternity.  It  comprises  all  the  cer- 
tainties of  a  future  state — all  the  consistencies  and  adjust- 
ments of  the  Divine  government — all  the  conditions  on 
which  sin  may  be  pardoned,  and  all  the  hopes  which  such  a 
pardon  is  calculated  to  inspire. 

Now,  my  hearers,  I  do  not  wish  to  pry  into  the  corners 
and  crevices  of  every  man's  life, — but  I  fear  all  of  us  might 
confess  that  our  attention  to  the  sacred  Scriptures  has  been 
most  deplorably  disproportionate  to  the  magnitude  of  the 
subjects  on  which  they  treat.  If  there  be  a  book  with  which 
the  mass  of  men  are  less  acquainted  than  with  any  other 
of  similar  extent  of  circulation,  it  is  not  difficult  to  say 
what  it  is.  Hundreds  who  have  attained  the  age  of  man- 
hood, and  the  dignity,  besides,  of  the  paternal  relations, 
have  not  a  Bible  in  their  houses,  or,  if  they  have,  it  lies  in 


ON   SEARCHING  THE    SCRIPTURES.  227 

some  secluded  corner,  aloof  from  inspection,  and  entirely 
uninterested  in  the  practical  concerns  of  life.  And  if  this 
were  really  owing  to  the  want  of  time,  the  case  might  ad- 
mit of  palliation.  But  an  apology  so  far  fetched,  carries 
on  the  very  face  of  it  the  evidence  of  its  own  insincerity. 
For  the  newspapers  we  always  husband  sufficient  leisure. 
The  state  of  exchange,  or  the  character  of  the  market,  or 
the  prices  current,  are  subjects  which  never  fail  to  find  us 
at  some  hour  in  the  day  disengaged  ;  or,  if  indifferent  to 
them,^  new  play,  or  a  new  novel,  will  sometimes  rivet  us 
down,  as  if  our  reputation  were  suspended  on  reading  them  ; 
and,  even  after  we  have  read  them,  or  whether  we  ever  read 
any  thing,  a  large  proportion  of  our  employments  are  resorted 
to  for  the  purpose  of  killing  time,  while  it  seldom  occurs  to 
us  that  we  are  immortal,  or  that  we  owe  any  duties  directly 
to  God. 

I  am  speaking  on  this  subject,  my  hearers,  not  so  much 
in  reference  to  the  guilt  we  inevitably  contract,  by  disre- 
garding the  messages  of  Inspiration,  as  to  the  unhappy, 
though  too  natural,  consequences  of  it  in  practical  life. 
This,  more  than  all  besides,  is  the  reason  that  infidelity 
finds  so  welcome  a  shelter  in  the  mind  ;  for,  to  disbelieve 
what  we  know  nothing  about,  and  especially  if  it  would 
impose  a  restraint  on  our  indulgences  to  believe  it,  is  one  of 
the  easiest  tasks  in  the  world.  Hence  it  is,  that  the  most 
obstinate  and  exasperated  skepticism  has  commonly  been 
engrafted  on  the  most  benighted  ignorance.  Men  have  not 
been  wanting  who  wouldJrfix  the  charge  of  imposture  on 
the  Bible  with  a  positiveness  bold  as  demonstration ;  and 
yet,  come  to  push  the  inquiry,  they  never  read  six  pages  of 
the  volume.  They  reason  in  a  circle  from  assumed  premi- 
ses, to  a  conclusion  which  they  are  compelled  to  use  in  turn, 
to  prove  the  premises  ;  and  half  of  them  cannot  tell  whether 
he  obnoxious  Saviour  lived  in  the  reign  of  Julius  Caesar  or 


228  SERMON    X. 

of  Constantine  the  Great.  Who  does  not  know  that  the 
original  of  this  picture  is  found  in  almost  every  community 
in  Christendom  ?  Even  those  who  adopt  their  ordinary 
opinions  with  caution  and  care,  seem  to  think  perfectly  at 
random  in  religious  things.  Instead  of  argument,  they 
furnish  themselves  with  the  convenient  terms  of  enthusi- 
asm, credulity,  or  common  people,  and  especially  if  a  fine 
sally  of  wit  can  be  indulged  at  the  expense  of  Revelation, 
the  whole  thing  is  reduced  to  the  certainty  of  Euclid. 
With  men  of  this  description,  it  is  but  justice,  I  will  n^t  say 
to  the  Scriptures,  nor  to  their  own  souls,  but  to  -common 
discernment  and  good  sense,  that  they  should  examine  opin- 
ions more  carefully  which  they  are  so  forward  to  condemn, 
and,  at  all  events,  while  they  are  too  indolent  to  investigate 
the  evidence,  they  would  suffer  nothing  by  aspiring  to  a  lit- 
tle more  modesty  in  rendering  their  verdict. 

There  is  another  respect  in  which  an  acquaintance  with 
the  Bible  is  absolutely  necessary  ;  and  that  is,  to  understand 
its  doctrines.  On  a  subject  so  important  as  religion,  all  men 
feel,  as  they  ought  to  feel,  entitled  to  their  own  opinions. 
They  know  that  what  a  minister  of  the  Gospel  may  say  is 
not  true,  because  he  says  it,  but  because  it  is  supported  by 
"Thus  saith  the  Lord;"  and  the  only  reason  that  his  sen- 
timents are  entitled  to  unusual  weight  is,  that,  if  diligent, 
he  has  examined  them  with  unusual  care,  and,  if  sincere, 
has  felt  their  practical  influence  on  his  own  heart.  Now, 
there  are  men  accustomed  very  seldom  to  look  within  the 
lids  of  the  Bible,  who  come  to  ch#ch  once  in  a  while,  per- 
haps once  a  week,  as  prompt,  as  they  could  be  after  the  most 
laborious  research,  to  admit  or  deny  the  doctrines  to  which 
they  listen  ;  and  what  is  remarkable,  a  few  of  these,  such 
as  human  depravity,  regeneration,  and  eternal  punish- 
ment, have  a  doom  almost  exclusively  unfortunate.  They 
are  rejected  on  the  threshold ;  they  are  consigned  to  thought. 


ON    SEARCHING  THE    SCRIPTURES.  229 

less  oblivion,  without  even  the  ceremony  of  asking  the  opinion 
of  the  sacred  Scriptures  on  the  subject.  To  such  a  course 
of  conduct,  every  thing  like  reflection  enters  a  solemn  pro- 
test. The  fact  is,  if  doctrines  of  that  kind  be  true,  they 
ought  to  be  believed  ;  and  if  they  be  not,  it  is  the  Bible 
alone  which  has  a  right  to  disclaim  them.  There  never  was, 
and  never  will  be,  a  sentiment  uttered  from  the  pulpit, 
which  any  man  with  the  everlasting  Gospel  in  his  hand 
may  not  legitimately  arraign ;  but  to  leave  the  sacred  vol- 
ume untouched  and  unexamined,  and  set  to  impeaching 
truths  merely  because  we  dislike  them,  is  as  if  we  should 
condemn  the  medicines  administered  in  sickness,  because 
they  might  not  suit  the  relish  of  appetite.  In  this  way,  not 
only  is  the  minister  charged  with  bigotry — a  charge,  how- 
ever, much  more  unjust  than  it  is  alarming — but  the  admo- 
nitions of  that  God  who  cannot  lie  are  denied,  or  despised, 
or  forgotten,  at  the  very  moment  that  they  are  rolling  for- 
ward to  all  the  certainty,  and  all  the  awfulness  of  their  ac- 
complishment. But  the  final  and  most  powerful  inducement 
for  searching  the  sacred  Scriptures  is  drawn  from  the  result 
mentioned  in  the  text — that  many  of  them  believed.  It  is 
a  maxim  as  correct  as  it  is  common,  that  to  be  sensible  of 
an  error  is  half  the  work  of  reformation.  I  do  not  say,  that 
to  read  the  Bible  is  any  part  of  repentance ;  but  one  thing 
may  be  safely  affirmed,  that  it  is  an  indispensable  prelimi- 
nary to  every  step  we  take  in  religion.  It  is  impossible  that 
we  should  comply  with  the  terms  of  salvation  while  we  re- 
main ignorant  of  them,  and  comply  we  mustf  or  we  shall 
never  be  saved.  Either  God  Almighty  must  give  us  another, 
and  a  very  different  revelation,  or  those  who  choose  dark- 
ness rather  than  light  must  go  away  into  everlasting  punish- 
ment. Indeed,  the  whole  index  of  those  exercises  through 
which  a  sinner  passes  in  the  process  of  conversion,  is  found 
in  the  Bible.  It  is  there  he  detects  the  character  of  the  na- 
11 


230  SERMON    X. 

tural  heart ;  there  that  his  pulse  begins  to  quicken  with  ap- 
prehension ;  there  that  he  learns  to  kneel  in  the  dust,  and 
cry  for  mercy  ;  there  that  he  discovers  his  own  helplessness, 
and  leaves  himself  behind  him,  and  grasps  the  Cross  of  his 
Saviour,  and  drinks  in  the  precious  consolations  of  pardon. 
The  Bible  alone  dries  up  the  tear  from  his  cheek,  and  points 
him  to  the  sinner's  friend,  who  demands  from  the  broken 
heart  no  recommendation  but  wretchedness,  and  no  condi- 
tion but  the  acceptance  of  relief.  All  this  may  sound,  my 
hearers,  like  the  language  of  mystery,  and  indeed  it  is  so, 
unless  interpreted  by  the  Bible.  I  do  not  wonder  that  every 
thing  connected  with  experimental  religion  is  mysterious, 
to  him  who  examines  it  only  from  the  cold  regions  of  phi- 
losophy and  speculation.  The  hidden  things  of  God  are 
contained  alone  in  the  volume  of  God.  Nothing  but  "  His 
law  is  perfect,  converting  the  soul ;"  nothing  but  "His  tes- 
timony is  sure,  making  wise  the  simple."  We  might  as  well 
descant  on  colors  while  blind,  or  study  mathematics  without 
figures,  as  attempt  to  understand  our  relations  to  the  God- 
head without  an  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  Bible. 
Where  is  a  Christian  who  will  not  acknowledge  it  to  have 
been  a  guide  to  his  feet,  and  a  lamp  to  his  path  ?  who  has 
not  drawn  from  it  the  rules  of  his  conduct,  the  nourishment 
of  his  piety,  the  support  of  his  trials,  and  the  encouragement 
of  his  hopes  ?  And  if  this  evidence  be  insufficient,  where 
is  the  secure  and  slumbering  sinner  who  has  not  neglected 
his  Bible  just  in  proportion  as  he  has  found  himself  hardened 
in  impenitence  ?  Can  it  be,  that  the  profane  oath,  or  the 
violation  of  the  Sabbath,  or  the  insanity  of  the  gaming- 
table, are  indulged  after  a  serious  perusal  of  the  word  of 
God  ?  Rather,  can  it  be,  my  hearers,  that  any  of  us  can 
sleep  on  in  our  sins  over  the  brink  of  eternity,  and  feel  our- 
selves so  little  at  home  in  our  closets,  and  forget  so  easily 
our  most  lively  impressions,  and  our  most  salutary  fears  ? 


ON  SEARCHING   THE    SCRIPTURES.  231 

Can  this  be,  if  we  permitted  the  Bible  every  day  to  warn  us 
of  our  danger,  and  to  disclose  the  approaching  retributions 
of  the  invisible  world  ?  These  are  questions  which  appeal 
to  our  consciences  for  an  answer.  Sooner  or  later  an  an- 
swer must  be  given,  and  ours  is  the  gain,  if  it  be  not  post- 
poned to  too  late  a  period.  The  time  is  coming,  when  all 
of  us  may  be  anxious  to  understand  the  meaning  of  that 
volume  which  reveals  to  a  sinner  his  only  hope.  If  we  can 
make  up  our  minds  to  believe  that  to-day  alone  is  the  day 
of  salvation,  we  must  begin  with  the  Bible.  If  we  are  will- 
ing to  run  the  risk  of  deferring  the  subject  to  a  dying  hour, 
let  us  at  least  inform  ourselves  of  the  true  state  of  the  case  ; 
for  in  that  tremendous  moment  we  shall  need  all  we  can 
now  know,  to  furnish  the  feeblest  probability  of  conversion, 
under  circumstances  so  desperate. 
May  God  add  his  blessing.     Amen. 


232  SERMON  Xf, 


SERMON  XL 

"  And  that  from  a  child  thou  hast  known  the  Holy  Scriptures." 

2  Tim.  iii.  16. 

The  young  man  to  whom  this  Epistle  is  addressed,  was 
the  bosom  friend  of  the  apostle  Paul.  The  attachment 
which  commenced  between  them  early  in  their  ministerial 
career  was  invigorated  afterwards  by  a  variety  of  circum- 
stances. They  were  fellow-travellers  in  their  mission — ■ 
once,  at  least,  they  were  imprisoned  together — when  possi- 
ble, they  were  associated  in  official  labors— and  during  the 
intervals  of  temporary  separation,  they  had  maintained  an 
affectionate  correspondence.  Hence  it  is,  that  St.  Paul  so 
frequently  mentions  him  in  his  writings.  He  alludes  in  se- 
veral instances,  to  the  kindness  and  assiduity  of  his  friend- 
ship— the  generosity  of  his  character — the  eminence  of  his 
Christian  attainments ;  and  more  than  once  does  he  speak 
of  him  under  the  endearing  appellation  of  Brother.  Indeed? 
few  persons  seem  to  have  surpassed  this  young  disciple  in 
the  engaging  and  dignified  consistency  of  his  demeanor  ; 
especially  his  religious  deportment,  was  correct  beyond  or- 
dinary precedent.  He  appears  to  have  been  thoughtful 
from  childhood — and  that  too  in  a  situation  by  no  means 
the  most  favorable — for  his  father  was  a  professed  infidel. 
His  education,  however,  was  superintended  by  his  mother 
and  grandmother,  both  of  whom  were  pious,  and  therefore 
solicitous  to  mould  his  principles  by  the  sacred  volume. 
They  led  him  early  in  fife  to  the  fountain  of  inspired  truth. 
They  delineated  to  his  opening  mind  the  relations  which  he 
sustained  towards  God.  They  carried  him  in  the  arms  of 
prayer  to  the  mercy-seat ;  and  the  result  was,  that  his  first 


RELIGIOUS    EDUCATION.  233 

views  received  a  virtuous  bias.  As  he  advanced  in  years,  a 
reflecting  and  serious  disposition  gave  iiim  respectability  ; 
and  in  the  end  he  became  prepared  by  personal  religion,  for 
the  commanding  attitude  he  afterwards  assumed  in  the 
Church  of  Christ. 

Now,  I  do  not  affirm,  my  hearers,  that  a  similar  system 
of  education  is  in  every  instance  rewarded  with  the  same 
success  ;  but  I  do  say,  and  it  is  very  much  the  doctrine  of 
the  text,  that  a  virtuous  direction  of  mind,  a  useful  and 
respectable  standing  in  the  world,  and  not  unfrequently  a 
radical  renovation  of  heart,  are  results  on  which  we  may 
iegitimately  calculate  when  we  impart  to  children  in  sea- 
son a  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Scriptures. 

I  say,  we  may  expect  a  virtuous  bias  to  be  given  the 
mind.  The  morality  of  the  Bible,  especially  in  regard  to 
children,  stands  decidedly  unrivalled  in  the  ethical  world. 
Let  it  take  them  before  the  affections  are  debased,  or  the 
habits  corrupted,  and  it  will  exert  an  influence  through  the 
whole  moral  system.  At  all  events,  it  will  pre-occupy  the 
ground  and  impose  a  set  of  salutary  restrciints  •  growing  with 
their  growth,  and  strengthening  with  their  strength  ;  from 
which  few  will  afterwards  be  able  entirely  to  escape.  Nor 
is  this  all ;  not  only  will  it  neutralise  in  a  great  degree  the 
temptations  of  vice,  but  it  will  be  constantly  enlarging  its 
own  dominion,  and  securing  its  own  efficacy  and  power. 
It  will  arrest  those  angry,  selfish,  and  frequently  immortal 
propensities,  which,  on  the  one  hand,  the  whole  intercourse 
with  the  world  is  calculated  to  inspire,  and  a  necessary  im- 
maturity of  judgment  on  the  other  cannot  be  supposed  suc- 
cessfully to  resist.  By  difl*using  the  light  of  Revelation,  it 
will  disperse  that  midnight  of  moral  ignorance,  of  which 
vice  invariably  takes  advantage  to  steal  from  its  conceal- 
ment in  the  heart,  and  triumph  in  the  publicity  of  its  de- 
predations.    But  on  a  point  like  this,  I  need  not  enlarge. 


234  SERMON     XI* 

It  is  enforced  too  powerfully  by  experience  to  need  proof; 
for  there  is,  perhaps,  no  man  accustomed  to  watch  the  ope- 
rations of  his  own  mind,  but  must  have  felt  that  his  charac- 
ter, whether  good  or  bad,  was  decided  very  much  by 
the  impressions  and  views  of  his  youth;  and  surely,  if  such 
be  the  fact,  what  single  feature  of  life  can  be  conceived  of 
greater  importance  than  that  which  is  instamped  by  religi- 
ous instruction,  and  perpetuated  through  subsequent  years 
by  all  our  strongest,  because  our  earliest  associations  ? 

I  have  said,  that  an  acquaintance  in  childhood  with  the 
Holy  Scriptures  is  often  the  basis  of  respectability  and  use- 
fulness in  the  world.  Society  imposes  certain  restraints  on 
all  its  members  ;  it  demands  an  interchange  of  kindness, 
decorum,  and  good  faith.  It  says  to  the  ardor  and  impetu- 
osity of  the  human  passions,  "  Hitherto  shall  ye  come, 
but  no  further."  Now,  to  prepare  the  rising  gene- 
ration for  these  observances — observances,  without  which 
the  whole  mechanism  of  life  would  be  incurably  dis- 
ordered,— to  do  this,  there  is  nothing  so  important  as 
to  give  them  the  Bible.  It  forms  their  principles  as 
well  as  curbs  their  excesses  ;  and  seldom  is  a  child 
beyond  the  danger  of  crime,  except  when  the  penalties  of 
human  law  are  sanctioned  and  enforced  by  an  enlightened 
conscience.  Look  into  our  prisons,  and  trace  to  an  in- 
cipient cause  the  brutality  and  insubordination  which  they 
confine.  Does  not  the  disclosure  apprise  us  in  a  vast  ma- 
jority of  cases,  either  that  no  religious  views  had  been 
formed  in  youth,  or,  if  they  were,  that  they  had  been  ef- 
faced by  a  violent  and  unnatural  effort  of  wickedness  ?  On 
the  other  hand,  when  we  enter  any  well-regulated  commu- 
nity, we  easily  discover  where  it  bestows  its  confidence  and 
where  it  dispenses  its  favors.  It  is  to  the  judicious — the 
sober — the  reflecting  :  it  is  to  men,  on  whom,  because  they 
have  fixed  and  correct  principles,  there  can  be  a  safe  de- 


Religious  education.  235 

pendence.  Sometimes,  indeed,  genius,  or  family,  or  fortune 
may  overleap  this  rule ;  but  such  instances  so  seldom  oc- 
cur, that  they  are  exceptions  rather  than  examples.  Re- 
spectability in  the  world  is  commonly  based  on  those  moral 
feelings  and  habits  which  the  Bible  inculcates  ;  and  in 
ninety-nine  cases  of  one  hundred,  experience  would  testify 
that  these  have  been  moulded  in  early  life,  and  entrusted 
with  a  powerful  influence  over  the  destinies  succeeding  man- 
hood and  age.  But  there  is  another  result  still  more  impor- 
tant, which  a  timely  instruction  of  children  in  the  sacred 
Scriptures  may  secure.  I  do  not  mean  the  impulse  which  it 
communicates  to  philanthropy.  I  do  not  refer  to  the  pro- 
jects which  it  has  incipiently  devised  for  relieving  indigence, 
and  suffering,  and  want.  I  do  not  point  you  to  Howard, 
and  Reynolds,  and  Mcintosh,  whom  it  sent  on  their  er- 
rands of  missionary  mercy.  It  has  an  aim  higher  even 
than  that.  It  aspires  to  the  ultimate  triumph  of  leading 
the  heart  to  personal  and  practical  piety.  Such  appears  to 
have  been  its  animating  and  glorious  result  in  the  case  of 
Timothy,  to  which  our  text  refers.  The  exertions  of  ma- 
ternal kindness  were  rewarded — the  prayers  of  an  affec- 
tionate mother  and  grandmother  were  heard  ;  and  the  plant 
which  they  reared  with  so  much  assiduity  and  tenderness, 
rose  at  last  into  a  mighty  tree,  beneath  whose  shade  the 
Church  of  Christ  for  half  a  century  found  repose,  refresh- 
ment, and  strength.  It  is  not  said,  for  it  is  not  meant,  that 
a  saving  knowledge  of  religion  is  a  necessary  consequence 
of  a  pious  education  ;  but  certain  we  are,  that  this  is  one 
of  the  most  powerful  auxiliaries  which  human  solicitude 
can  consult.  If  there  be,  as  there  undoubtedly  is,  a  striking 
analogy  between  the  kingdoms  of  Providence  and  Grace, 
who  can  safely  assert  that  a  suitable  perseverance  in  the 
appointed  means  is  unsuccessful  in  the  one  case  more  fre- 
quently than  in  the  other  ?     But,  at  any  rate,  to  those  who 


236  SERMON  XI. 

have  the  Bible  in  their  hands,  there  can  be  no  Christian 
hope,  except  on  the  conditions  which  it  has  dehneated.  By 
imbuing  the  minds  of  children,  therefore,  with  religious 
truth,  we  place  them,  if  I  may  say  so,  upon  the  theatre  of 
Divine  grace  ;  we  give  them  the  Scriptures  to  shelter  them 
from  the  temptations  of  the  world  ;  and,  above  all,  we  mul- 
tiply the  rational  probabilities,  that  they  will,  one  day,  be 
bathed  in  the  blood  of  a  Saviour,  and  prepared  for  the  king- 
dom of  their  Father  and  their  God. 

Such,  my  hearers,  are  some  of  the  leading  considerations 
suggested  by  the  text.  You  are  aware  how  closely  they 
apply  to  the  subject  which  I  am  appointed,  on  the  present 
occasion,  to  propose  to  the  patronage  of  this  community. 
Indeed,  the  design  of  the  Sunday  School  Society,  for  which 
your  assistance  is  now  solicited,  has  been  kept  in  view 
during  all  the  remarks  you  have  just  heard  ;  and  I  know 
not,  that  it  could  better  be  expressed  in  a  single  sentence, 
than  by  saying,  in  allusion  to  the  text,  that  it  is  to  give  to 
men  from  their  childhood  a  knowledge  of  the  Holy  Scrip* 
tures.  Since  the  first  formation  of  Sunday  Schools,  they 
have  had  but  one  great  object,  and  that  has  been  to  devote 
a  portion  of  the  Sabbath  to  the  instruction  of  children  in 
the  elementary  and  acknowledged  principles  of  the  Bible. 
They  keep  aloof  from  all  creeds — all  sectarian  distinctions 
— all  controverted  topics ;  and  aiming  simply  at  the  good 
of  society,  and  the  welfare  of  souls,  they  wish,  like  the  Sa- 
viour of  the  world,  to  take  little  children  in  their  arms,  and 
to  bless  them  for  this  life,  and  that  which  is  to  come.  The 
first  of  these  institutions  originated  in  the  benevolence  of  a 
citizen  of  Gloucester,  in  England.  His  name  was  Robert 
Raikes.  In  1782,  his  attention  was  arrested  by  the  idle- 
ness and  vice  exhibited  among  the  children  of  that  city  on 
the  Sabbath.  Prompted  by  a  princely  heart,  he  hired  four 
female  teachers,  in  different  streets,  to  instruct  these  rep- 


RELIGIOUS    EDUCATION.  237 

mature  vagabonds  on  the  morning  of  the  Lord's  Day.  Dur- 
ing the  following  year,  his  plan  had  pronounced  so  well  its 
own  practical  eulogy,  that  the  public  papers  took  up  the 
subject,  and  laid  it  before  the  most  intelligent  men  of  the 
kingdom.  So  rapidly  did  it  secure  the  confidence  of  com- 
munity— of  statesmen,  politicians,  and  the  clergy  of  every 
Church  — that  a  General  Society,  established  in  London  in 
1785,  was  computed  the  following  year  to  have  under  its 
inspection,  in  the  different  counties,  not  less  than  two 
hundred  and  fifty  thousand  children,  regularly  instructed  in 
the  sacred  Scriptures  on  the  Sabbath.  This  parent  institu- 
tion, headed  by  a  distinguished  member  of  Parliament, 
and  comprising  the  talents,  enterprise,  and  wealth,  of  the 
most  conspicuous  gentlemen  in  Great  Britain,  moved  for- 
ward with  an  activity  equalled  alone  by  the  kindness  which 
impelled  its  efforts.  Not  satisfied  with  founding  schools 
in  Scotland,  Ireland,  and  Wales,  it  crossed  the  Channel, 
and  cheered  and  animated  the  Continent  with  the  asylums 
of  its  Sabbatical  philanthropy. 

The  same  spirit  has  traversed  the  Atlantic,  and  visited 
our  own  country  with  its  inspiration.  Under  the  culture  of 
female  benevolence,  Sunday  Schools  were  commenced  in 
New-York  in  1815,  and  although  the  United  States  cannot 
claim  the  merit  of  originaUty  in  design,  they  have  not  been 
surpassed  in  promptness  and  harmony  of  execution.  From 
Boston  to  New-Orleans,  and  in  hundreds  of  interior  towns, 
the  subject  has  enlisted  the  most  vigorous  support  from  all 
sects  of  Christians,  and  all  classes  of  men,  and  at  this  mo- 
ment, not  four  years  from  the  first  conception  of  the  pro- 
ject, an  estimated  number  of  one  hundred  thousand 
children,  instructed  by  ten  thousand  male  and  female 
teachers,  are  evincing  to  the  world  the  efficiency  of  Ame- 
rican exertion.  But  why  do  I  speak  of  American — 
why  of  states  or  kingdoms,  on  a  theme  like  this  ?  Why 
11* 


238  SERMON    XI. 

do  I  assign  locality  to  an  institution  which  claims  all 
Christians  for  its  supporters  and  all  Christendom  for 
its  home.  Rather  let  me  say,  that  wherever  the  Gos- 
pel has  been  preached,  there  have  Sunday  Schools  been 
erected.  In  Europe  and  America,  in  Asia,  that  metropo- 
lis of  idolatry,  in  Africa,  the  empire  of  degradation,  from 
Canada  to  New-Holland,  from  Ceylon  to  the  West  Indies* 
from  Nova  Scotia  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope,  they  have 
multiplied  their  trophies.  This  very  day,  my  brethren,  they 
have  led  more  than  one  million  children  to  the  great  dispen- 
sary of  eternal  truth,  and  one  hundred  thousand  teachers  to 
distribute  the  gratuitous  bounty.  God  has  planted,  and 
reared,  and  blessed  them.  They  have  reclaimed  the  Sabbath; 
they  have  purified  society  ;  they  have  depopulated  prisons  and 
poor-houses  ;  they  have  crowded  the  Church  of  Christ ;  and 
it  is  not  enthusiastic  to  believe  that  they  will  be  hailed  by 
thousands  through  eternity  as  the  instruments  of  their  final 
salvation.  But  were  they  to  accomplish  none  of  these  re- 
sults, they  will  for  ever  retain  one  laurel  which  I  had  rather 
wear  than  all  the  stars,  and  crowns,  and  mitres,  which  am- 
bition ever  coveted  or  subjection  bestowed.  They  origi- 
nated that  stupendous  moral  machineiy  which  is  renovating 
the  world  ; — I  mean  the  British  and  Foreign  Bible  Society. 
This  institution,  it  is  well  known,  was  first  conceived  by 
the  Rev.  Joseph  Hughes,  a  Baptist  clergyman.  Previous 
to  his  forming  the  design,  however,  a  number  of  Sunday 
Schools  had  been  established  in  Wales,  and,  owing  to  a 
scarcity  of  Bibles,  a  Welshman,  by  the  name  of  Charles, 
repaired  to  London  to  obtain  a  supply.  It  was  while  there, 
and  in  conversation  with  that  gentleman  on  the  subject,  that 
Mr.  Hughes  framed  the  magnificent  project  of  a  society, 
which,  like  the  sun,  has  visited  all  parts  of  the  earth  with 
its  life  and  light,  and  warmth,  and  animation. 

But,  appealing,  as  we  now  do,  to  the  liberality  of  the  pub- 


RELIGIOUS    EDUCATION.  239 

lie  for  assistance,  it  may  be  inquired  what  objects  we  hope 
to  attain  by  this  institution.  I  answer,  in  the  first  place, 
that  it  sheds  an  aspect  of  stillness  and  serenity  over  the 
Sabbath.  Its  efficacy  in  this  respect  is  literally  astonish- 
ing. I  remember  the  observation  of  a  distinguished  physi- 
cian in  New- York,  whose  profession  led  him  to  see  much 
of  that  place,  that  such  was  the  change  produced  by  Sun- 
day Schools,  he  could  easily  have  distrusted  the  evidence 
of  his  senses.  On  this  point,  however,  I  can  safely  appeal 
for  testimony  to  those  of  the  audience  who  have  recently 
resided  in  the  Atlantic  cities ;  and  if  the  foreign  gazettes 
may  be  credited,  the  same  order  and  tranquillity  are  wit- 
nessed in  the  principal  towns  of  Great  Britain.  Just  in 
proportion  also  to  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  does  this 
institution  become  a  powerful  engine  for  the  prevention  of 
vice.  During  the  week,  children  are  induced  to  husband 
their  leisure  moments  for  their  lessons  ;  and  when  Sunday 
arrives,  they  repair  to  the  place  of  recitation,  to  receive  the 
reward  of  their  industry.  This  is  at  once  relieving  the  pa- 
rent from  a  duty  which  he  seldom  has  time  to  discharge  ; 
and  it  also  shields  them  from  the  examples  of  idle,  heedless, 
or  profane  servants,  and  the  company  of  improper  associ- 
ates— exposures  which  have  probably  debased  and  degraded 
more  youthful  minds  than  all  other  causes  united.  I  only  add, 
that  of  four  thousand  chiMren  educated  on  this  plan  by  Mr. 
Raikes,  in  Gloucester,  but  one  at  the  time  of  his  death  had 
been  charged  with  a  crime,  although  the  whole  of  them  had 
then  attained  the  age  of  maturity.  After  all,  the  importance 
of  Sunday  Schools  may  be  estimated  chiefly  by  the  bless- 
ings they  convey  to  the  pupils  themselves.  They  develope 
the  faculties  of  the  mind,  and  especially  they  elicit  and  ex- 
ercise the  powers  of  the  memory.  With  respect  to  poor 
children,  also,  who  have  few  other  advantages,  they  fre- 
quently detect,  amidst  the  rubbish  of  ignorance  and  obscu- 


24Q  SERMON  XI. 

rity,  the  diamond  of  native  talent.  Besides  this,  they  have 
an  unequivocal  tendency  to  create  habits  of  respectability 
and  virtue.  Often,  very  often,  have  they  rescued  purity 
from  exposure,  misfortune  from  despondency,  and  inno- 
cence from  temptation.  Conversing  recently  with  an  intel- 
ligent merchant  at  the  eastward,  he  told  me  with  much  feel- 
ing, that  he  could  never  cancel  the  debt  he  owed  to  Sunday 
Schools.  On  subsequent  inquiry,  i  was  informed  that  they 
had  reclaimed  him  from  early  debasement  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  his  present  affluence  and  character.  A  simi- 
lar instance  lately  occurred  in  New-York  :  A  young  man 
called  at  the  British  Consul's  office,  and  made  himself 
known  as  the  pupil,  several  years  ago,  of  a  Sunday  School 
in  the  north  of  Ireland.  He  was  the  child  of  shame,  and 
no  parents  owned  him  for  their  son.  But  that  Sunday 
School  had  been  to  him  a  father,  and  mother,  and  sister, 
and  brother.  With  the  principles  which  it  instilled  into 
his  mind  he  had  entered  the  world — become  his  own  an- 
cestor, and  secured,  by  merit,  a  standing  which  family  had 
not  bestowed.  He  handed  to  the  Consul  one  hundred  dol- 
lars, his  little  earnings  in  a  foreign  land,  and  wished  it  remit- 
ted to  his  destitute  mother— the  forlorn  daughter  of  sorrow, 
and  guilt,  and  disgrace.  But  there  is  another  triumph  which 
has  distinguished  the  march  of  Sunday  Schools,  and  that  is, 
the  frequent  instances  in  which  they  have  led  the  docility  of 
childhood  to  the  Cross  of  Christ. 

Could  I  present  you,  my  hearers,  with  a  register  of  those 
vv'ho  are  indebted  to  such  institutions  for  the  hope  of  immor- 
tality, I  should  think  my  object  secured.  In  cases  too  nu- 
merous to  be  related,  have  children  been  ultimately  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  that  Bible  which  they  studied  at  first  only 
under  the  incitement  of  curiosity  or  emulation.  Multitudes 
are  now  living,  of  the  most  consistent  Christian  character, 
who  ascribe  to  this  origin  their  first  religious  impressions  ; 


RELIGIOUS    EDUCATION.  241 

and,  as  if  to  demonstrate  the  genuineness  and  divinity 
of  the  work,  hundreds  have  been  called  to  the  world  of  spirits, 
and  left  their  dying  testimony  to  the  power  of  the  Gospel  on 
their  hearts.  I  might  easily  fill  up  the  evening  with  ex- 
amples. I  might  tell  you  of  a  child  eleven  years  old,  in 
Baltimore,  not  long  since  removed  from  life,  who  spent  the 
last  efforts  of  nature  in  singing  an  hymn  she  had  learned  at 
the  Sunday  School.  I  might  remind  you  of  a  pupil  of  nine 
years,  in  Massachusetts,  who  called  his  parents  to  his  bed- 
side, told  them  of  the  love  of  Christ,  kissed  them  a  composed 
farewell,  and  died  in  their  arms.  I  might  repeat  the  story 
of  a  little  child, in  Edinburgh,  eight  years  only  of  age,  who 
had  found  his  Saviour  in  a  Sunday  School ;  who  remained 
firm  in  the  hour  of  dissolution  ;  summoned  the  family  around 
him ;  gave  one  hand  to  his  father,  and  the  other  to  his  mo- 
ther, and  triumphantly  expired.  I  might  recite  an  impres- 
sive variety  of  cases  in  which  juvenile  faith  has  abandoned 
the  pursuits  of  sin,  enlisted  in  the  ranks  of  religion,  honored 
the  Church  and  the  world,  disarmed  death  of  its  terrors, 
and  irradiated  eternity  with  the  hopes  of  the  Gospel.  But 
I  will  not  consume  your  time  by  recounting  the  items  of  this 
evidence.  Rather  let  me  add  :  Here  are  the  objects  of  our 
ambition ;  here  are  the  conquests  we  aspire  to  achieve  ; 
here  are  Sunday  Schools  in  all  the  legitimacy  of  their  influ- 
ence, and  all  the  majesty  and  magnificence  of  their  results. 
Of  the  institution  in  this  city,  we  can  only  say,  it  has  risen, 
like  the  rest,  from  small  beginnings.  Receiving  continual 
accessions,  however,  about  seventy  pupils  are  now  the  regular 
subjects  of  gratuitous  instruction  on  the  Sabbath.  Upon 
you,  my  hearers,  it  depends  whether  we  shall  go  on  in  the 
work  we  have  begun.  Lend  us  your  patronage,  and  we  will 
cheerfully  submit  to  the  labor,  the  toil,  the  difficulty  of 
the  undertaking.  Replenish  our  funds,  and  send  us  your 
children,  and  we  will  rear  in  New-Orleans  an  institution  of 


240  SERMON  XI. 

rity,  the  diamond  of  native  talent.  Besides  this,  they  have 
an  unequivocal  tendency  to  create  habits  of  respectability 
and  virtue.  Often,  very  often,  have  they  rescued  purity 
from  exposure,  misfortune  from  despondency,  and  inno- 
cence from  temptation.  Conversing  recently  with  an  intel- 
ligent merchant  at  the  eastward,  he  told  me  with  much  feel- 
ing, that  he  could  never  cancel  the  debt  he  owed  to  Sunday 
Schools.  On  subsequent  inquiry,  i  was  informed  that  they 
had  reclaimed  him  from  early  debasement  and  laid  the 
foundation  of  his  present  affluence  and  character.  A  simi- 
lar instance  lately  occurred  in  New-York  :  A  young  man 
called  at  the  British  Consul's  office,  and  made  himself 
known  as  the  pupil,  several  years  ago,  of  a  Sunday  School 
in  the  north  of  Ireland.  He  was  the  child  of  shame,  and 
no  parents  owned  him  for  their  son.  But  that  Sunday 
School  had  been  to  him  a  father,  and  mother,  and  sister, 
and  brother.  With  the  principles  which  it  instilled  into 
his  mind  he  had  entered  the  world — become  his  own  an- 
cestor, and  secured,  by  merit,  a  standing  which  family  had 
not  bestowed.  He  handed  to  the  Consul  one  hundred  dol- 
lars, his  little  earnings  in  a  foreign  land,  and  wished  it  remit- 
ted to  his  destitute  mother-— the  forlorn  daughter  of  sorrow, 
and  guilt,  and  disgrace.  But  there  is  another  triumph  which 
has  distinguished  the  march  of  Sunday  Schools,  and  that  is, 
the  frequent  instances  in  which  they  have  led  the  docility  of 
childhood  to  the  Cross  of  Christ. 

Could  I  present  you,  my  hearers,  with  a  register  of  those 
who  are  indebted  to  such  institutions  for  the  hope  of  immor- 
tality, I  should  think  my  object  secured.  In  cases  too  nu- 
merous to  be  related,  have  children  been  ultimately  imbued 
with  the  spirit  of  that  Bible  which  they  studied  at  first  only 
under  the  incitement  of  curiosity  or  emulation.  Multitudes 
are  now  living,  of  the  most  consistent  Christian  character, 
who  ascribe  to  this  origin  their  first  religious  impressions  ; 


RELIGIOUS    EDUCATION.  241 

and,  as  if  to  demonstrate  the  genuineness  and  divinity 
of  the  work,  hundreds  have  been  called  to  the  world  of  spirits, 
and  left  their  dying  testimony  to  the  power  of  the  Gospel  on 
their  hearts.  I  might  easily  fill  up  the  evening  with  ex- 
amples. I  might  tell  you  of  a  child  eleven  years  old,  in 
Baltimore,  not  long  since  removed  from  life,  who  spent  the 
last  efforts  of  nature  in  singing  an  hymn  she  had  learned  at 
the  Sunday  School.  I  might  remind  you  of  a  pupil  of  nine 
years,  in  Massachusetts,  who  called  his  parents  to  his  bed- 
side, told  them  of  the  love  of  Christ,  kissed  them  a  composed 
farewell,  and  died  in  their  arms.  I  might  repeat  the  story 
of  a  little  child. in  Edinburgh,  eight  years  only  of  age,  who 
had  found  his  Saviour  in  a  Sunday  School ;  who  remained 
firm  in  the  hour  of  dissolution  ;  summoned  the  family  around 
him ;  gave  one  hand  to  his  father,  and  the  other  to  his  mo- 
ther, and  triumphantly  expired.  I  might  recite  an  impres- 
sive variety  of  cases  in  which  juvenile  faith  has  abandoned 
the  pursuits  of  sin,  enlisted  in  the  ranks  of  religion,  honored 
the  Church  and  the  world,  disarmed  death  of  its  terrors, 
and  irradiated  eternity  with  the  hopes  of  the  Gospel.  But 
I  will  not  consume  your  time  by  recounting  the  items  of  this 
evidence.  Rather  let  me  add  :  Here  are  the  objects  of  our 
ambition ;  here  are  the  conquests  we  aspire  to  achieve  ; 
here  are  Sunday  Schools  in  all  the  legitimacy  of  their  influ- 
ence, and  all  the  majesty  and  magnificence  of  their  results. 
Of  the  institution  in  this  city,  we  can  only  say,  it  has  risen, 
like  the  rest,  from  small  beginnings.  Receiving  continual 
accessions,  however,  about  seventy  pupils  are  now  the  regular 
subjects  of  gratuitous  instruction  on  the  Sabbath.  Upon 
you,  my  hearers,  it  depends  whether  we  shall  go  on  in  the 
work  we  have  begun.  Lend  us  your  patronage,  and  we  will 
cheerfully  submit  to  the  labor,  the  toil,  the  difficulty  of 
the  undertaking.  Replenish  our  funds,  and  send  us  your 
children,  and  we  will  rear  in  New-Orleans  an  institution  of 


242  SERMON    XI. 

civil,  social,  and  religious  good,  which  all  of  you  shall  rejoice 
to  contemplate.  I  have  no  further  arguments  to  urge.  This 
is  one  of  those  subjects  which,  to  the  citizen,  the  philan- 
thropist, the  Christian,  plead  their  own  cause,  and  speak 
their  own  eulogy.  Let  me  merely  say,  that  if  your  liberali- 
ty enables  us  to  accomplish  the  plan  we  have  commenced, 
not  only  the  children  who  are  now  advancing  to  take  our 
places  as  we  retire  from  life,  not  only  they,  but  generations 
yet  unborn  will  rise  up  and  call  you  blessed. 


DUTY    OF    RECONCILIATION   TO    GOD.  243 


SERMON  XII. 

"We  pray  you,  in  Christ's  stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to  God." 

2  Corinthians,  v.,  20. 

That  was  not  an  unmeaning  inquiry  of  the  prophet, 
"  Who  hath  believed  our  report,  and  to  whom  is  the  arm  of 
the  Lord  revealed  ?"  Were  an  angel  suddenly  to  light  upon 
this  earth,  a  stranger  to  its  impenitence  and  guilt,  and  de- 
gradation, he  would  instinctively  recoil.  He  would  find 
himself  on  a  little  isthmus,  between  time  and  eternity, 
wasted  by  the  one  and  washed  by  the  other ;  and  yet 
crowded  with  millions  of  immortal  souls,  indifferent  to  the 
suddenness  and  certainty  with  which  they  were  sinking  into 
the  surrounding  abyss.  He  would  see  them  absorbed  in  a 
world  they  must  soon  relinquish, — unmindful  of  an  exist- 
ence they  will  never  terminate, — and  careless  of  a  Saviour 
they  must  receive  or  die  ;  and,  overpowered  by  the  solemn 
and  affecting  prospect,  he  would  exclaim,  in  the  words  of  In- 
spiration, "  Verily,  the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God — 
not  subject  to  the  law  of  God — neither,  indeed,  can  be." 

But,  my  hearers,  it  needs  not  the  purity  nor  the  penetra- 
tion of  an  angel  to  adopt  this  melancholy  language.  It  is 
only  to  examine  the  lineaments  of  the  natural  heart  by  the 
light  of  the  Bible,  and  all  of  us  must  confess  that  we  are 
the  enemies  of  God,  unless  and  until  "  reconciled  by  the 
blood  of  His  Son."  For  what  else  is  the  meaning  of  the 
text  ?  On  whom  could  the  apostle  enjoin  reconciliation 
but  on  enemies  ?  How  could  he  instruct  us,  as  instruct  us 
he  certainly  does,  to  return  to  friendship  and  peace,  if  we 
had  never  before  felt  hostility  ?  The  truth  is,  he  has  de- 
ceived us — and  every  chapter  of  Revelation  has  deceived 


244  SERMON   XII. 

US, — and,  may  I  not  add,  our  own  experience  deceives  us, 
unless  we  have,  by  nature,  an  evil  heart  of  unbelief,  depart- 
ing from  the  living  God,  and  unwilling  that  He  should  reign 
over  us. 

But,  my  hearers,  long  as  we  have  revolted  from  our  alle- 
giance, the  unlimited  offer  of  pardon  is  still  published.  Still 
does  the  angelic  Hallelujah  swell  through  the  Heavens, 
"Peace  on  earth,  and  good  will  to  men."  Still  is  it  an- 
nounced from  the  lips  of  Inspiration,  that  God  is,  in  Christ, 
reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself,  not  imputing  to  them 
their  trespasses.  This  is  the  message  which  the  apostle 
proclaims  to-day,  in  the  words  of  the  text ;  and,  as  if  to 
impart  to  his  expression  redoubled  solemnity  and  importance, 
he  prays  us,  in  Chrisfs  stead.  He  would  have  us  regard 
the  Lord  Jesus  himself,  as  applying  to  each  of  our  hearts 
the  impressive  entreaty,  "  Be  ye  reconciled  to  God."  Each 
of  us,  did  I  say  ?  No,  1  trust  there  are  some  who  have 
already  complied  with  the  command,  and  are,  therefore,  ex- 
empted from  this  renewed  solicitation.  But  where  are  they  ? 

Is  it  we,  my  brethren,  who  are  the  professed  disciples  of 
Jesus  ?  who  have  taken  the  vows  of  God  upon  our  souls, 
and  sealed  our  covenant  at  the  sacramental  table  ?     Alas  ! 
I  fear  some  of  us  have  given  little  other  evidence  of  our 
attachment  to  Christ.     We  have,  perhaps,  had  a  religion  of 
vows,  and  sacraments,  and  professions,  while  the  things  of 
the  Kingdom  have  been  dispatched  rather  as  matters  of  con- 
venience and  security,  and  our  light  before  the  world  has  ap- 
peared the  dim  and  flickering  flame  which  has  only  made 
our  darkness  visible.     It  may   be  the  unregenerate,  who 
know,  as  we  ought  to  know,  that  the  effrontery  of  the  pre- 
tension does  not  establish  the  genuineness  of  the  claim, — 
that  they  have  often  had  a  right  to  say  of  us,  "  What  do 
they  more  than  others  ?"     And,  my  brethren,  if,  on  impar- 
tial trial  of  these  facts,  the  verdict  of  conscience  be  against 


DUTY   OP    RECONCILIATION   TO    G0£>.  245 

US,  we  ought,  instead  of  hunting  through  past  life  for  the 
evidence  of  present  piety — we,  of  all  others,  ought  to  lie 
down  in  the  dust,  and  apply  the  apostle's  injunction,  "  Be 
ye  also  reconciled  to  God," 

I  am  aware,  my  hearers,  that  it  is  hard  and  humiliating  to 
fix  upon  ourselves  the  charge  of  hostility  to  our  Maker.  Even 
were  I  to  leave  the  visible  Church,  and  go  into  the  world,  it 
would  be  quite  as  difficult  to  find  those  who  would  appropri- 
ate the  accusation.  Pass,  if  it  were  possible,  from  man  to 
man,  through  the  assembled  ranks  of  the  impenitent,  and 
they  would  unanimously  exclaim,  '*  God  forbid  that  we 
should  be  His  enemies.  Never  could  we  be  guilty  of  in- 
gratitude so  base  towards  the  Preserver  of  our  lives,  and  the 
Giver  of  our  mercies.  It  is  true,  we  have  committed  many 
sins,  but  it  was  done  with  no  bad  design,  and  so  far  from 
harboring  hostility  towards  God,  we  have  always  thought 
of  Him  with  reverence  and  love." 

Now,  my  hearers,  if  all  of  us  can  so  easily  escape  from 
the  application  of  the  text,  what  did  the  apostle  mean  in 
saying  what  he  has  said  ?  He  did  not  write  this  epistle  for 
Botany  Bay,  or  Bridewell.  He  did  not  send  it  to  a  band  of 
robbers,  assassins,  or  outlaws  ;  and  if  he  had  done  so,  they 
might  reply,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  that  they  had  never 
cherished  a  direct  hatred  against  God.  But  the  apostle 
wrote  to  a  Christian  congregation, — to  a  body  of  men,  ac- 
customed, as  we  are,  to  assemble  for  Divine  worship,  and  to 
yield  that  respect  and  decorum  which  it  requires.  It  was 
to  them,  and,  by  a  parity  of  reasoning,  it  is  to  us,  that  he 
addresses  the  exhortation  of  the  text.  As  the  herald  of 
Jesus  Christ,  he  beseeches  us  "  to  be  reconciled  to  God." 
All  things  else  are  ready  ;  the  ransom  is  paid, — the  procla- 
mation is  published, — the  blood  of  Calvary  has  extinguished 
the  fires  of  justice, — and  God  Himself  is  entirely  reconciled 
to  all  sinnersy  but  impenitent  sinners.     To  them,  therefore, 


246  SERMON    Xll. 

the  apostle  now  speaks, — no  matter  whether  to  the  openly 
profane  or  to  the  hypocritical  pretender,  or  to  the  self- 
righteous  formalist,  or  to  the  deceived  and  deluded  professor 
of  religion, — on  him  who  is  unregenerate,  whoever  he  may 
be,  this  passage  nails  the  declaration  of  Nathan  to  David, 
"  Thou  art  the  man  !" 

But,  is  it  possible,  my  hearers,  that  to  be  unregenerate  is 
to  be  at  enmity  with  God  ?  This  is  surely  an  important 
point  to  establish  ;  for,  in  the  first  place,  the  Apostle  takes 
it  for  granted,  in  the  text, — and,  besides,  till  we  can  ascer- 
tain some  existing  hostility,  we  shall  never  listen  to  the  pro- 
posal of  reconciliation.  Let  us,  then,  decide  the  question, 
by  a  plain  and  serious  examination  of  ourselves  at  the  bar 
of  conscience.  None  of  us  can  be  ignorant  that  we  are  in- 
structed to  love  the  Lord  our  God  with  all  our  hearts.  And, 
let  me  ask,  have  we  done  this  ?  Has  He  been  the  object  of 
our  most  warm  and  affectionate  thoughts  ?  Rather,  have 
we  not  lived  days  and  weeks  without  even  the  ceremony  of 
recollecting  that  He  had  preserved  us  ?  And,  perhaps,  if 
some  casualty  has  reminded  us  of  Him,  we  have  felt  a 
sensation  of  uneasiness  until  the  melancholy  visitation  had 
subsided.  How  long  have  we  ever  lived  without  prayer  ?  and 
when  we  have  occasionally  consented  to  the  hardship  of 
bending  before  the  altar,  has  it  not  been  with  a  cold  and 
heartless  formality,  accompanied  by  a  kind  of  pleasing 
emotion  when  the  task  was  over  ?  And  is  this  love  to  God  ? 
Is  this  the  active  and  animating  exercise  which  we  dignify 
with  the  name  of  affection  in  our  intercourse  with  each 
other  ?  Again, — one  of  the  most  decided  marks  of  Chris- 
tian character  is  made  to  consist  in  attachment  to  the  dis- 
ciples of  Christ.  The  reason  is  obvious  ; — we  cannot  love 
the  original  without  loving  also  the  image.  Is  it  not  so, 
then,  that  we  are  disaffected  with  the  spirituality  of  the  di- 
vine law,  and  disposed  to  persuade  ourselves  that  it  does  not 


DUTY   OF   RECONCILIATION   TO   GOD.  247 

require  the  strictness  and  self-denial  which  we  sometimes 
see  exemplified  ?  Do  we  not  secretly  disrelish  the  features 
of  holiness  which  appear  on  the  unfashionable  people  of 
God  ?  Do  not  our  faces  almost  unconsciously  brighten  when 
we  see  a  professed  Christian  conforming  to  the  customs  of 
the  world?  And  do  we  not  experience  a  feeling  of  sensible 
vexation,  in  proportion  as  he  grows  in  heavenly. mindedness 
and  grace?  And  can  it  be  that  we  really  love  God,  when 
we  are  either  indifferent,  or  opposed  to  His  people,  and  the 
more  so,  by  how  much  the  more  they  are  assimilated  to  His 
sinless  character  ?  Again, — we  are  taught  in  the  sacred 
volume,  that  if  we  love  God,  we  shall  keep  His  command- 
ments. 

Now,  my  hearers,  let  us  abide  a  moment  by  this  standard, 
and  inquire  whether  there  be  not  restraints  imposed  by  the 
divine  law  which  we  actually  disrelish, — whether  we  do  not 
labor  to  remain  ignorant  of  them, — and  when  conscience  is 
really  at  a  stand,  unable  to  direct,  whether  we  do  not  always 
lean  to  the  side  of  our  own  indulgence, — whether  there  arc 
not  duties  enjoined  which  we  deliberately  neglect,  and 
sins  forbidden  which  we  solemnly  know  we  have  not 
abandoned, — and  even  in  those  things  which,  in  themselves, 
have  been  good  ?  Let  us  bring  them  to  the  test.  Why 
have  we  been  kind  and  generous,  and  honorable  ?  Has  the 
love  of  God  been  our  motive  ?  Have  we  maintained  this 
character  because  He  requires  it  ?  or  only  because  we  have 
naturally  a  lofty  and  benevolent  disposition,  or  because  it  is 
something  which  the  world  admires,  or  because  we  hope  to 
reap  some  praise  or  profit  from  it,  or  because  we  expect  it 
passed  to  our  credit  in  the  great  day  of  accounts  ? 

Why,  too,  do  we  visit  the  sanctuary  ?  Is  it  with  the  pious 
salutation  of  David,  "How  amiable  are  thy  tabernacles,  O 
Lord  of  Hosts  !  My  soul  longeth,  yea,  even  fainteth  for  the 
courts  of  the  Lord.     My  heart  and  my  flesh  crieth  out  for 


248  SERMON  XII. 

the  living  God"  ?  Or  is  it  to  get  rid  of  the  Sabbath ;  or  to 
criticise  the  performances ;  or  to  see  our  neighbors  and 
friends  ;  or  to  pay  a  tribute  to  the  institutions  of  society ; 
or  to  remunerate  our  consciences  for  the  sins  of  the  week  ? 
And  when  the  customary  signal  is  given  for  prostrating  our- 
selves before  the  Throne  of  Mercy,  are  not  our  eyes  roving 
through  the  building,  as  if  we  had  no  interest  in  the  service, 
and  our  hearts  everywhere  else  but  towards  Heaven,  in  the 
attitude  of  prayer  for  the  blessings  we  need,  and  of  peni- 
tence for  the  guilt  we  have  contracted  ;  or  if  the  prospect 
of  death,  or  the  apprehensions  of  punishment,  sometimes 
alarm  our  stupor  into  earnestness,  is  it  not  because  we  feel 
that  we  are  going,  and  think  our  own  beloved  selves  in  dan- 
ger, and  tremble  over  the  anticipated  retributions  of  eterni- 
ty ?  And  call  we  this  love  to  God  ?  No,  my  hearers,  it 
would  be  solemn  mockery.  A  hope  like  this  must  perish. 
That  convenient  religion  which  knows  no  warmth  of  affec- 
tion, and  no  duty  of  self-denial,  which  is  satisfied  with  the 
homage  that  custom  forbids  it  to  withhold,  but  never  thinks 
of  taking  the  Cross  and  following  Christ  in  the  regenera- 
tion,— the  whole  is  but  a  set  of  empty  compliments  to  the 
Almighty.  If  we  have  nothing  but  this  to  present,  my 
hearers,  the  question  is  settled.  We  need  hesitate  no  long- 
er. With  nothing  but  this,  we  shall  retain  the  carnal  mind, 
and  Inspiration  itself  has  hazarded  the  assertion,  that  the 
carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God.  What,  then,  is  to  be 
done  ?  It  has  come  to  this  :  that  we  are  buried  in  spiritual 
sleep ;  we  are  dead  in  trespasses  and  sins ;  we  are  bound 
and  blinded  in  hostility  to  the  Divine  character,  and  yonder 
approaches  the  apostle  with  a  treaty  of  reconciliation. 
Where  is,  then,  the  hope  of  pardon  ?  Can  we  change  our 
own  hearts  ?  No,  my  hearers,  it  is  not  exacted.  We  are 
not  required  to  reconcile  ourselves  to  God,  but  to  be  recon- 
ciled.    Had  it  been  left  to  our  own  exertions,  not  a  single 


DUTY   OF    RECONCILIATION    TO    GOD.  249 

sinner  would  ever  have  seen  Heaven.  As  soon  may  the 
Ethiopian  change  his  skin,  or  the  leopard  his  spots,  as  the 
human  heart  subdue  its  own  corruption. 

But,  again,  it  is  asked,  What,  then,  can  be  done?  We 
reiterate  the  answer.  Nothing  at  all  by  the  sinner.  And 
are  there  none  of  us  who  are  glad  to  hear  this  declaration  ? 
who  are  secretly  exulting  that  we  can  do  nothing,  and  mak- 
ing it  an  apology  for  going  on  undisturbed  ?  Alas  !  so  far 
from  an  apology,  it  is  but  a  fresh  evidence  that  we  are  by 
nature  the  enemies  of  God  ;  for  in  what  other  case  should 
we  settle  down  so  composedly  in  the  conviction  of  our  own 
impotence  ?  Were  we  floating  on  the  brink  of  some  dread- 
ful cataract,  with  our  limbs  lashed  to  the  boat,  and  incapable 
of  action,  should  we  be  satisfied  because  we  could  not  es- 
cape, or  should  we  shriek  for  assistance  ?  Were  we 
stretched  on  the  bed  of  disease,  palsied  and  motionless, 
while  our  dwellings  were  on  fire  around  us,  should  we  soothe 
ourselves  in  our  own  imbecility,  or  should  we  cry  for  rescue 
from  the  roaring  conflagration  ?  Why,  then,  shall  we  stand 
every  hour  on  the  edge  of  the  eternal  world  without  a  single 
prayer  for  mercy  ?  Why  shall  we  remain  secure,  and  then 
seek  an  excuse  for  our  indifference  in  that  very  depravity 
which  ought  to  stop  it  on  our  lips  ?  Why  shall  we — how 
dare  we,  live  along  unconcerned,  and  plead  our  inability  with 
so  much  composure,  as  if  we  should  by-and-by  bring  the 
Almighty  to  terms,  and  He  would  save  us  in  spite  of  our- 
selves ?  I  know  we  can  do  nothing,  and  that  is  the  very 
reason  that  we  are  called  upon  to  awake  and  bestir  our- 
selves ;  for  we  must  feel,  too,  that  we  can  do  nothing,  or 
nothing  ever  will  be  done  for  us  ;  and  this  we  cannot  feel 
till  we  have  made  the  experiment,  and  ascertained  our  en- 
tire helplessness.  When  we  have  learned  to  despair  in  our- 
selves, we  shall  be  willing  to  confide  in  Christ ;  when  we 
have  thoroughly  made  the  attempt  to  work  out  our  own  sal- 


250  SERMON  XII. 

vation,  theii,  and  not  till  then,  shall  we  find,  that  it  is  God 
who  worketh  in  us  both  to  will  and  to  do  of  His  good  plea- 
sure. Never  shall  we  be  reconciled  to  Him,  unless  we  ap- 
proach Him  through  the  Mediator,  and  on  the  footing  of  that 
act  of  grace  which  is  published  in  the  Gospel.  Everything 
like  self-righteousness  must  be  abandoned  ;  our  repentance, 
our  prayers,  our  tears,  weigh  not  a  feather  in  the  scale  of 
merit.  The  sufferings  of  Christ  alone  must  be  regarded  as 
the  ground  of  our  acceptance,  and  his  atonement  as  the  only 
medium  of  reconciliation  to  sinners.  Nor  is  this  all  :  we 
must  be  sensible  of  our  enmity  to  God  by  nature,  before  we 
can  feel  the  importance  of  having  it  subdued.  It  needs  no 
credulity  to  arrive  at  these  impressions.  The  solitary 
thought,  that  we  have  lived  twenty,  thirty,  or  forty  years, 
without  one  throb  of  love  to  our  Maker,  if  we  have  lived 
without  holiness,  will  abundantly  attest  our  views  of  His 
character  ;  or  we  can  take  the  Bible,  and  retire  into  our 
own  hearts  ;  and  if  this  do  not  satisfy  us  that  God  has  not 
been  the  object  of  our  supreme  affections,  we  are  either  too 
spiritual  to  deserve  the  charge,  or  too  stubborn  to  confess  it. 
There  is  one  more  article  in  the  treaty  of  reconciliation  with 
God ;  and  that  is,  we  must  enlist  our  whole  souls  without 
reserve  into  His  service.  I  say  without  reserve.  He  is  will- 
ing to  receive  sinners,  but  they  must  leave  their  sins  behind 
them.  Every  unhallowed  propensity  must  be  restrained  ; 
every  unholy  indulgence  must  be  surrendered.  In  a  Chris- 
tian's  heart  there  is  no  compromise  with  the  world.  The 
Bible  alone  is  the  charter  of  his  hopes,  and  the  rule  of  his 
conduct.  What  that  enjoins  he  loves  to  execute,  however 
laborious ;  what  that  forbids  he  is  willing  to  abandon,  re- 
commended as  it  may  be  by  wealth,  or  interest,  or  fashion. 
He  regards  himself  as  not  his  own,  but  as  bought  with  a 
price ;  and  measuring  every  hour  the  rapid  step  which  has- 
tens him  to  eternity,  his  life  becomes  a  practical  commen- 


DUTY   OF    RECONCILIATION    TO    GOD.  251 

tary  on  the  prayer  of  the  psalmist,  "  So  teach  me  (o  Dumber 
my  days  as  to  apply  my  heart  unto  wisdom." 

Such,  my  hearers,  are  the  terms  on  which  God  is  willing 
to  be  reconciled  to  sinners.  It  is  with  these  overtures  that 
we  must  close ;  and  that,  too,  in  just  the  manner  and  form 
delineated  by  the  Bible,  or  we  are  exiled  from  Heaven  for 
ever.  And  not  this  only,  brethren,  but  the  time  is  short. 
What  we  do  at  all,  we  must  do  quickly.  Long  enough  have 
we  made  light  of  Christ ;  long  enough  have  we  stood  and 
challenged  the  storm  that  is  ready  to  break  over  our  heads. 
If  we  are  ever  saved,  there  must  come,  sooner  or  later,  that 
unutterably  solemn  hour,  when  we  shall  submit  to  an  un- 
conditional surrender.  While  we  are  sqandering  away  the 
offers  of  pardon,  the  sword  of  justice  is  perhaps  leaping  from 
its  scabbard.  There  is  a  mercy  to  the  government  of  God, 
as  well  as  to  us ;  and  I  know  not  but  this  very  moment  the 
decree  is  issuing  in  Heaven,  "  Thou  mine  enemies  that 
would  not  that  I  should  reign  over  them,  bring  hither  and 
slay  them  before  me." 

Again,  therefore,  my  hearers,  we  beseech  you,  "  in  Christ's 
stead,  be  ye  reconciled  to  God."  What  is  wanting  but 
the  heart  ?  '*  Why  will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel  ?"  Were 
it  left  to  ourselves  to  determine,  what  more  could  we  ask 
Him  to  do  in  His  vineyard,  that  He  has  not  done  in  it  ? 
Must  another  Gospel  be  published  ?  Must  another  Jesus 
ascend  the  Cross  ?  Must  another  "  My  God,  my  God," 
burst  from  the  lips  of  an  expiring  Saviour  ?  Why,  then, 
shall  we  stake  our  immortal  souls  for  nothing,  and  postpone, 
and  postpone,  till  the  mandate  goes  forth,  "  Cut  them  down, 
why  cumber  they  the  ground  ?"  Had  we  a  guarantee  of 
life,  there  might  be  some  excuse  for  procrastination,  but  we 
have  not.  Every  day  is  reminding  us  how  soon  it  may  be 
irretrievably  too  late.  We  are  playing  a  game,  while  out 
of  Christ,  which  in  a  single  moment  may  beggar  us  forever. 


252  SERMON    XII. 

On  every  side  yawns  the  unglutted  grave  :  everywhere 
some  new  corpse  or  coffin  meets  the  eye  :  and,  little  as  we 
now  think  of  it,  we  too  must  go.  We  know  not  what  a 
day  may  bring  forth.  To-morrow  the  harvest  may  be  past ; 
the  summer  ended,  and  we  not  saved.  "  O,  that  my  head 
were  waters,  and  my  eyes  a  fountain  of  tears,  that  I  might 
,  weep  day  and  night  for  the  slain  of  the  daughter  of  my  peo- 
ple !"  O,  that  I  had  a  voice  that  could  reach  and  renovate 
the  natural  heart,  and  persuade  it  to  be  reconciled  to  God ! 
I  would  depict  the  Cross  of  Calvary,  and  the  agonies  of 
Jesus,  and  the  bar  of  the  Judgment  Day.  I  would  compel 
it  to  come  in.  Yes,  /  would  ;  but  God  alone  can  do  it,  and 
in  His  hands  I  leave  the  decision. 


CAUSES  OF  DISTASTE  FOR    RELIGION.  253 


SERMON  XIII. 

"  Let  not  the  wise  man  glory  in  his  wisdom." 

Jeremiah^  ix.,  23. 

The  history  of  the  Church,  to  one  who  will  take  the 
trouble  of  turning  it  over,  presents  a  most  interesting  subject 
of  reflection.  Time  was,  when  no  man  ventured  to  wear 
the  guise  of  Christianity,  without  carrying  all  its  warm  and 
thoroughgoing  spirit  along  with  it ;  when  the  thirsty  axe, 
the  crimsoned  scaffold,  and  the  dripping  cross,  offered  to  the 
mind  such  an  appalling  dissuasive  from  professing  the  name 
of  Christ,  that  nothing  short  of  a  renovated  heart  would 
embark  in  the  transaction.  But  now  the  tables  are  turned. 
Now,  almost  every  man,  according  to  his  conscience,  is 
more  or  less  a  nominal  Christian,  and  the  visibility  of  reli- 
gion is  as  common  as  the  spirit  of  it  is  rare.  I  say,  the 
spirit  of  it;  for  certain  it  is,  that  in  the  matter  of  that  ear- 
nest, active,  absorbing  principle,  which  made  the  primitive 
saints  look  on  every  thing  in  the  impressive  light  of  eterni- 
ty, we  find  the  great  mass  of  mankind,  now-a-days,  most 
conspicuously  lacking.  True,  indeed,  they  do  not  withhold 
the  tribute  of  their  respect,  nor  an  occasional  loan  of  their 
time  or  influence  in  pushing  forward  the  march  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  but  all  the  while,  as  for  any  personal  experimental 
exercises,  they  know  nothing.  They  have  no  heart  for 
getting  down  upon  their  knees  in  the  single  attitude  of  sin- 
ners crying  for  mercy.  An  alarming  majority  move  along 
in  the  career  of  impenitence,  unmelted  and  unimpressed, 
and  taking  just  as  wide  a  swing  in  the  pleasures  of  the  world, 
as  if  it  brought  upon  them  no  corresponding  condemnation 
of  being  the  enemies  of  God.  Now,  at  all  this,  in  the  gene- 
12 


264  SERMON    Xlll. 

ral,  we  need  not  be  surprised.  We  need  not  wonder  that  a 
large  portion  of  mankind  should  put  away  from  them  the 
spirituality  of  religion,  and  content  themselves  with  the  very 
flimsiest  profession.  The  drunkard  will  put  it  away  from 
him,  because  it  bids  him  forsake  his  cups  ;  and  the  volup- 
tuary  will  do  so,  because  it  restricts  the  indulgencies  of  the 
table  ;  and  the  gamester  will  do  so,  because  it  debars  him 
the  fascinations  of  play  ;  and  the  profligate  v/ill  do  the  same 
thing,  because  it  prohibits  the  round  of  his  midnight  de- 
baucheries ;  and  so  we  might  go  out  into  a  hundred  indi- 
vidualities of  application.  You  can  easily  see  that  all  these 
men  will  shun  the  urgencies  of  personal  Christianity,  and 
yet  all  of  them  may  find  it  very  convenient,  both  for  char- 
acter and  for  conscience'  sake,  to  keep  up  something  like 
the  show  of  an  external  pretension.  But  there  is  another 
class  of  persons,  about  whom  the  explanation  is  by  no  means 
so  easy.  They  are  those  who  seem  to  be  embraced  by  the 
language  of  our  text,  men  of  accomplished  and  cultivated 
minds,  who,  as  the  prophet  has  it,  "  glory  in  their  wisdom  ;" 
who  go  the  whole  length  of  assent  to  the  great  doctrines  of 
the  New  Testament,  and  yet  contrive  to  keep  every  thing 
like  evangelical  religion  entirely  away  from  their  hearts. 
I  say  this  is  not  so  easily  explained,  although  for  every  form 
of  impenitence,  seen  no  matter  where,  and  garnished  with 
no  matter  how  many  visible  accomplishments,  we  find  an 
account  on  the  pages  of  the  Bible.  We  find  that  the  nature 
which  all  of  us  inherit,  is  impaired  and  corrupted,  and  that 
none  of  the  aberrations  into  which  we  may  run  from  the 
line  of  duty  are  to  be  wondered  at,  if  the  grace  of  God  do 
not  keep  throwing  in  a  counteractive  influence  upon  our 
course.  But  all  this,  however  true  it  may  be,  is  talking 
only  in  general  terms. 

Upon  the  subject  which  our  text  brings  before  us  to-day, 
there  are  many  'particular  views  to  be  taken  ;  and  therefore 


CAUSES  OF    DISTASTE  FOR    RELIGION.  255 

it  is,  that  we  shall  set  about  finding  the  reasons  why  persons 
of  reading  and  taste  are  disposed  to  receive  Christianity  in 
the  main,  and  yet  turn  away  from  all  the  strict  and  experi- 
mental features  which  belong  to  it.  I  apprehend  we  can- 
not better  start  upon  this  inquiry,  than  by  beginning  with 
the  force  of  education.  Among  those,  indeed,  who  have 
been  brought  up  without  any  religion,  it  is  quite  plain  that 
we  need  not  look  for  a  feeling  of  cordiality  towards  the  mor- 
tifying demands  of  the  Gospel  ;  but  confining  myself  to 
such  of  you  as  have  been  piously  educated,  I  think  there 
may  be  drawn  from  the  nature  of  the  case  some  explanation 
of  your  repugnance  to  experimental  Christianity.  Urged 
upon  you  at  an  age  when  all  the  gaiety  of  youthful  impulse 
led  you  in  an  opposite  direction,  you  grew  up  with  a  dis- 
taste for  it  proportioned  to  the  zeal  with  which  it  was  en- 
forced. You  felt  it  to  be  a  restraint  upon  your  indulgen- 
cies.  You  looked  upon  it  in  the  light  of  a  most  uninviting, 
not  to  say  repulsive,  damper  of  your  pleasures.  You  be- 
lieved, from  the  mere  habit  of  hearing,  and  you  maintained, 
from  the  mere  habit  of  believing ;  until  at  last,  when  you 
came  to  form  your  own  opinions,  you  found  yourselves  un- 
armed with  a  single  argument  on  the  side  of  strict  evangeli- 
cal godliness.  Here  it  was,  that  the  mind  underwent  the 
process  of  a  complete  revulsion.  You  looked  abroad,  and 
saw  that  Christianity  was  divine.  You  admired  the  splen- 
did and  majestic  renovation  which  she  shed  over  society, 
but  the  spirituality  of  the  thing  you  were  unable  to  under- 
stand. You  began  first  to  halt,  then  to  doubt,  then  to  be 
perplexed,  and  finally  to  settle  down  into  an  immoveable  in- 
difference ;  while,  the  whole  time,  you  were  governed  by 
mere  early  associations  re-acting  on  the  mind,  without  going 
for  an  hour  into  the  work  of  a  personal  and  thorough  inves- 
tigation. I  appeal  to  yourselves,  if  this  be  not  the  actual 
arithmetic  of  your  religious  history  ?    Has  not  the  custom  of 


256  sfiRMdN  xifi. 

believing  doctrines  without  argument  in  youth,  thrown  over 
you  an  almost  involuntary  presumption,  that  there  is  no  such 
thing  as  an  important  doctrine  supported  by  argument  at 
all  ?  Have  not  the  prejudices  of  education  taken  a  counter- 
active effect,  and  created  as  much  antipathy  on  the  one 
hand,  as  they  formerly  did  reverence  and  credit  on  the 
other  ?  And  while  I  am  about  it,  allow  me  to  say,  that 
much  as  we  may  look  back  and  smile  over  the  lessons  of 
childhood,  as  the  dotings  of  parental  fondness,  the  day  is 
coming,  when  the  prayers  and  tears  of  our  godly  parents 
will  recur  to  us,  and  bring  along  with  them  a  bitterness  just 
in  proportion  to  our  present  feehngs  of  neglect. 

But  to  return.  Go  a  step  further.  You  will  find,  I  sus- 
pect, that  an  additional  repugnance  to  strict  Christianity  has 
been  insensibly  insinuated  into  your  minds  by  the  peculiari- 
ties of  Christian  professors.  There  is,  I  know  not  what 
disposition  in  the  world,  to  take  up  every  eccentricity  and 
imperfection  which  may  linger  around  a  pious  man,  and 
charge  the  whole  at  once  to  his  religion.  Instead  of  inquir- 
ing what  his  religion  has  done  for  him,  how  many  impurities 
it  has  wiped  away,  and  how  many  high  and  lofty  sentiments 
it  has  inspired,  the  question  commonly  is,  whether  it  has  left 
any  thing  undone,  any  thing  like  a  relic  of  those  foibles  un- 
subdued, which  before  had  complete  and  undisputed  posses- 
sion of  him.  Now,  my  hearers,  on  this  point,  let  us  go  into 
a  computation  of  absolute  matters  of  fact.  Make  out  a  cata- 
logue of  those  repulsive  features  which  piety  has  presented 
to  our  view  upon  the  different  walks  of  life.  Pat  down  upon 
the  list  a  set  of  preachers,  gifted  with  none  of  the  charms  of 
eloquence,  laying  aside  in  their  discourses  every  elegance  of 
diction,  and  every  suavity  of  manner,  and  urging  in  their 
most  discouraging  form  the  doctrines  of  an  unbending  or- 
thodoxy. Put  down  upon  this  list  the  phraseologies  in 
vogue  among  Christians,  but  out  of  date  in  the  common  in- 


CAUSES   OF    DISTASTE  FOR  RELIGION.  257 

tercourse  of  the  world — the  odd  expressions  of  theological 
writers,  heard,  perhaps,  from  childhood,  and  disgusting  the 
mind  so  entirely,  that  when  the  ideas  themselves  recur, 
even  in  another  garb,  the  same  lurking  disgust  is  sure  to  be 
awakened.  Put  down  on  this  list  the  demeanor  which  cer- 
tain Christians  exhibit,  the  precision  of  their  movements, 
the  solemn  manner  of  doing  little  things,  the  audible  impulses 
of  the  breath,  the  characteristic  tones  of  the  voice,  their  pe- 
culiar positions  or  gestures  in  religious  worship,  and,  in  short, 
the  whole  of  that  dove-tailed  nicety  which  some  men  will 
carry  about  with  them  in  life.  I  say,  put  all  these  con- 
siderations together,  and  however  poor  may  be  the  compli- 
ment to  your  better  judgment,  I  doubt  much  if  they  have 
not  had  their  influence  in  producing  your  disrelish  to  spirit- 
ual godliness.  And  look  at  it,  my  hearers.  On  any  other 
subject  your  fastidiousness  disappears.  The  manners,  the 
style,  the  peculiarities  of  men,  you  never  permit  to  sway 
your  opinions  of  their  sentiments.  Some  of  the  greatest 
personages  that  ever  lived  have  been  the  most  uncouth 
and  eccentric.  Bacon  was  stigmatised  as  a  juggler ;  Des 
Cartes  was  lampooned  as  a  fanatic  ;  Johnson  called  Milton 
a  Babylonian,  and  half  the  world  have  called  Johnson  some- 
thing worse ;  and  yet  the  whole  of  this  has  never  made  us 
doubt  a  single  truth  they  uttered,  or  impeach  a  single  pro- 
fession they  made. 

But  go  a  step  further.  Your  repugnance  to  experimental 
Christianity  has  been  increased,  I  apprehend,  by  finding  it 
frequently  connected  with  weak  and  uncultivated  minds.  It 
would  be  a  libel  on  your  good  sense,  my  hearers,  to  suspect 
you  of  unfriendliness  to  vital  religion,  from  seeing  it  often 
professed  by  the  hypocritical  and  wicked  pretender.  Like 
every  thing  else  valuable,  it  has  its  counterfeits ;  and  you 
know,  as  every  body  knows,  that  with  such  a  class  of  men, 
except  as  they  seek  under  its  venerable  name  a  shelter  for 


258  SERMON    XIII. 

their  sins,  it  has  nothing  to  do.  But  it  has  much  to  do  with 
men  of  feeble  intellect.  With  them  it  does  really  and  vitally 
connect  itself,  and  looking  upon  it  in  this  association,  I  fear 
you  have  given  to  it  the  character  of  something  beneath 
your  notice.  But  think  over  this  subject  again.  Philoso- 
phy, indeed,  had  her  alcoves,  her  lyceum,  her  academies, 
and  every  thing  that  flung  around  her  the  magnificent  and 
imposing  drapery  of  a  costly  decoration.  But  recollect  that 
the  poor  had  no  portion  there.  Recollect  that  it  is  the  Gos- 
pel alone  which  is  preached  to  the  poor ;  which  walks  into 
every  family,  however  humble,  and  every  heart,  however  dis- 
consolate, and  every  mind,  however  weak,  and  offers  to  each 
and  to  all  alike  the  blessed  news  of  a  provided  immortality. 
And  would  you  undervalue  religion,  for  the  very  reason 
that  you  ought  to  lend  her  your  loudest  applause  ?  Would 
you  despise  the  sun,  which  rides  through  those  heavens,  be- 
cause it  lightens  the  meanest  beggar  on  his  way,  as  well  as 
the  monarch  in  marshalling  the  armies  of  an  empire  ?  Where, 
tell  me,  is  the  mind  too  lofty  to  be  filled  with  the  sublime 
announcements  of  the  Gospel  ?  You  have  seen  that  there 
is  none  too  low ;  when,  I  ask,  shall  we  find  one  too  high  ? 
Q,  brethren,  you  might  travel  over  the  illimitable  dominions 
of  the  Godhead ;  you  might  converse  with  those  mighty 
spirits  which  bend  and  burn  around  His  Throne,  and  not 
one  could  you  meet,  who  would  think  beneath  his  notice 
that  stupendous  scheme  of  mercy  which  aims  to  renovate 
the  human  heart. 

But  I  need  not  resort  to  angels.  Walk  abroad  upon  the 
theatre  of  mere  human  excellence.  Tell  me  if  you  have 
ever  heard  of  the  deep  researches  of  Locke  ;  the  powerful 
reasonings  of  Owen ;  the  impassioned  and  unrivalled  elo- 
quence of  Whitfield,  or  the  exploring  intrepidity  of  Buchanan? 
Tell  me  if  you  have  heard  of  Newton,  in  science  ;  of  Hale, 
on  the  Bench ;  of  Booerhave,  in  medicine  ;  of  Milton,  in 


CAUSES  OF  DISTASTE  FOR    RELIGION.  259 

poetry  ;  of  Thornton,  in  coramf^rce  ;  of  Zuingle,  Gustavus, 
and  Gardner,  in  the  field  :  and  then  answer,  whether  that 
strict  and  evangelical  religion  which  you  have  seen  con- 
trolling the  weakest  minds,  is  not  fitted  also  to  control  the 
most  brilliant,  and  mighty,  and  commanding  1 

But  go  a  step  further,  and  we  will  stop  together.  I 
much  mistake  the  matter  if  your  repugnance  to  experi- 
mental Christianity  has  not  been  insensibly  rivetted  by 
an  acquaintance  with  what  is  called  polite  literature — of 
the  ancient  classics,  the  efTect,  if  there  be  any,  in  a 
moral  view,  is  decidedly  hostile  to  the  spirit  of  the 
New  Testament.  The  captivating  imagery  of  Homer 
— the  indecencies  of  Ovid — the  licentiousness  of  Horace 
— and  the  illusive  fictions  of  Virgil,  have  come  down  to 
us  habited  in  so  rich  a  livery,  that  we  are  in  some  sort 
heathenised  almost  before  we  are  aware  of  it.  I  am  not 
saying,  that  we  ou|j^t  to  exile  authors  of  such  a  cast  into 
irrecoverable  banishment  from  our  reading  ;  but  this  I  say, 
that  when  they  are  read,  it  should  be  with  a  mind  warned 
at  all  points  against  their  fascinations,  and  keeping  up  a 
broad  line  of  distinction  between  the  virtue  of  Pagan  philo- 
sophy, and  the  piety  of  Christian  devotedness  to  God. 
But,  after  all,  it  is  modern  literature  which  operates  the 
most  seductively  to  create  a  distaste  for  spiritual  religion. 
Who  does  not  know,  that  among  the  publications  issuing 
every  day  from  the  press,  there  is  next  to  none  which  be- 
speaks a  Christian  parentage  ?  Sometimes,  it  is  true,  they 
bring  Christianity  upon  their  pages  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 
play, and  they  throw  around  it  the  embellishment  of  all  its 
grand,  and  all  its  majestic  attributes  ;  but  there  the  curtain 
falls.  To  look  for  that  great  animating  principle  which 
reaches  and  penetrates  the  heart,  and  sends  the  repenting 
sinner  to  the  solemn  aspirafions  of  the  closet — to  look  for 
this  in  almost  any  of  our  works  of  taste, — would  be  like 


260  SERMON  XIII. 

searching  the  deserts  of  Arabia  for  a  spot  of  verdure.  I  do 
not  mean  that  all  our  literary  productions,  or  even  many  of 
them,  come  forth  to  the  world  attired  in  the  panoply  of  a 
positive  opposition  to  the  Gospels.  But  what  then  ?  Nei- 
ther do  they  lend  the  least  aid,  unless  an  occasional  com- 
pliment be  called  aid,  in  its  defence.  In  nearly  every  one 
of  their  delineations  they  are  utterly  defective ;  not  only 
wrong  in  the  coloring,  but  wrong  in  the  groundwork. 
They  make  the  good  man  every  thing  but  a  Christian,  and 
happiness  every  thing  but  experimental  piety,  and  human 
life  every  thing  but  the  vestibule  of  eternal  existence,  re- 
quiring of  us  the  business  of  an  active  and  constant  prepa- 
ration. I  have  said  that  they  carried  with  them  no  direct 
hostiHty  to  religion  ;  but  there  are  some,  upon  which  even  this 
praise  of  neutrality  cannot  be  conferred  ;  and  sure  I  am,  to 
mention  no  more  cases,  that  if  the  moral  taste  of  the  com- 
munity is  not  wofully  corrupted,  it  wilMfcot  be  the  fault  of 
two  of  the  most  eminent  poets  of  the  age,  who  have  inflict- 
ed, the  one  by  the  impiety  of  his  conceptions,  and  the  other 
by  the  licentiousness  of  his  verse,  the  deepest  wound  in 
their  power  upon  spiritual  Christianity.  Perhaps  such  men 
may  hope,  by  throwing  over  a  part  of  their  "  melodies"  the 
plausibility  of  a  Christian  name,  to  atone  for  the  depravity 
of  the  rest ;  but  for  myself,  I  say,  and  I  say  no  more,  that  if 
God  had  given  me  such  talents  as  they  have,  and  if  He 
had  seen  me  like  them,  perverting  the  splendid  endowment 
from  one  end  of  life  to  the  other,  I  should  tremble  to  hear 
the  terrific  summons  thundering  through  the  silence  of  my 
grave  on  the  judgment  day — "  Arise,  and  give  an  account  of 
thy  stewardship.  " 

I  will  not,  my  hearers,  impose  a  further  tax  upon  your 
patience.  You  will  see  that  I  have  made  it  the  drift  of 
my  remarks,  to  obviate  some  of  the  most  plausible  objections 
commonly  set  up  against  that  strict  and  spiritual  Christie 


CAUSES   OF  DISTASTE  FOR  RELIGION.  261 

anity,  which  I  deem  it  my  weekly  duty  to  enforce.    I  have 
told  you  in  the  language  of  the  prophet,  "  Let  not  the  wise 
man  glory  in  his  wisdom  ;"  and  now  I  should  like  to  ask, 
what  is  wisdom  when  applied  to  the  attainments  of  the  hu- 
man mind  ?     Go  and  look  one  moment  upon  the  wonder- 
working God  ;  wielding  the  vast  enginery  of  His  designs  ; 
analysing  the  effect  of  each  alone,  and  of  all  together,  and 
applying  them  at  once  to  the  ten  thousand  wants,  dependen- 
cies, and  connexions  of  the  universe.     Go  and  see  Him 
pouring  the  comprehensions  of  His  Omniscient  Eye  through 
the  limitless  ages  of  eternity,  and  setting  in  motion,  at  the 
same  instant,  all  the  complicated  instrumentalities  neces- 
sary to  fill  and  animate  His  mighty  dominions   with  the 
evidences  of  His  glory  !     Do  this,  and  you  will  sink  down 
mortified  and  abashed  from  your  own  ideal  elevation,  and 
exclaim,'/'  Lord,  what  is  man,  that  thou  art  mindful  of  him, 
or  the  son  of  man  that  thou  visitest  him  ?"     Now,  it  is  just 
this  spirit  of  heartfelt  humility  which  will  fit  us  for  receiv- 
ing in  its  true  character  the  transforming  influence  of  the 
Gospel.     The  plain  matter  of  fact  is,  that  all  of  us  are  sin- 
ners ;  and  though  one  may  excel  another  in  the  extent  of 
literary  research,  or  the  lustre  of  visible  accomplishments, — 
though  the  repulsive  name  of  enthusiasm  may  be  given  to 
truth,  or  the  stigma  of  weakness  be  fixed  upon   piety — all 
this  time,  the  irrevocable  declarations  of  the  Bible  are  mov- 
ing forward  to  their  unassuaged  and  unimpeded  catastrophe. 
About  your  mere  belief,   or  your  external  conformities,  I 
have  no  question  to  ask.    You  may  credit  Christianity,  and 
tender  it  the  homage  of  your  respect,  and  uphold   it  as  a 
salutary  institution  of  society.     But  this  is  not  coming  to 
the  point.    To  be  an  advocate  is  one  thing,  and  to  be  a  dis- 
ciple is  entirely  another  thing.     This  will  never  carry  you 
to  Heaven.     I  wish  to  know   how  the  great  business  of 
the  heart  is  getting  along,  and  whether  the  Saviour  has  done 
12* 


262  SERMON   XIII. 

any  thing /or  you  in  the  work  of  your  personal  prepara» 
tions  for  the  bar  of  God  ?  My  Bible  teaches  me  that  he 
who  is  not  for  Christ  is  against  him ;  and  when  I  hear  such 
men  as  St.  Paul  and  his  associates  talking  about  the  diffi- 
culty of  salvation — when  I  look  on  the  fervor  of  the  pri- 
mitive disciples — when  I  see  the  earnest  and  prayerful  anxi- 
eties which  swell  a  Christian's  bosom,  in  every  age — I  can- 
not  help  thinking,  that  something  of  the  same  spirit  must  be 
ours,  if  we  are  ever  hailed  by  the  ascended  Redeemer 
among  the  future  worshippers  of  his  glory.  Why,  then, 
my  brethren,  stand  we  here  all  the  day  idle  ?  If  there  be 
any  thing  to  be  done,  do  it  quickly.  The  sand  that  mea- 
sures our  flight  to  the  eternal  world  is  rapidly  wasting,  and 
the  shadows  of  the  grave  are  deepening  over  our  path  as  we 
pass  along,  ^ome  and  enter  your  names  in  the  career  of 
immortality.  Come  and  put  on  the  armor  of  experimental 
religion,  and  enlist  under  the  banners  of  Jesus  Christ.  Come 
to  him.  Leave  every  pride  of  intellect,  and  every  impulse 
of  self-confidence  behind  you,  and  find  in  his  blood  and  be- 
neath his  Cross,  that  all-renovating  principle  which  can 
make  you  wise  unto  salvation.     Amen. 


SIN    INCONSISTENT    WITH    PIETY.  263 


SERMON  XIV. 

"  For  whosoever  shall  keep  the  whole  law,  and  yet  oflfendin  one  point, 
he  is  guilty  of  all." 

James,  ii.,  10. 

All  of  us  who  read  the  Bible,  are  aware  that  it  divides 
mankind  into  two  great  classes, — the  righteous  and  the 
wicked.  Between  these  it  allows  no  amalgamation.  Every 
individual  who  loveth  God,  be  his  standing  or  be  his  attain- 
ments never  so  mean,  falls  on  the  one  side ;  and  every  in- 
dividual, graced  with  no  matter  how  many  accomplish- 
ments, who  loveth  not  God,  falls  on  the  other  side  of  the 
line  of  separation.  This,  I  know,  is  a  principle  which  the 
men  of  this  world  are  apt  to  disrelish.  They  are  informed, 
that  in  the  sight  of  God  there  are  but  two  kinds  of  charac- 
ter. How  strange,  how  mysterious,  when,  in  their  own 
sight,  every  day,  they  find  one  hundred  kinds  of  character, 
from  the  very  worst  to  the  very  best, — from  the  lowest  de- 
basement up  to  the  most  high  and  honorable  elevation.  The 
assassin,  say  they,  is  regarded  with  horror, — and  the  de- 
bauchee is  treated  with  coldness, — and  the  victim  of  im- 
prudence is  looked  upon  with  pity  ;  and  then,  again,  the 
man  of  integrity  and  good  feeling  commands  respect. 
Surely  these  different  persons  are  not  all  on  a  level.  But 
when  we  come  to  open  the  Bible,  we  discover  but  one  grand 
distinction  applied  to  the  whole  of  this  vast  variety  of  cha- 
racter,— and  that  is,  the  single  distinction  between  the 
righteous  and  the  wicked. 

Now,  my  hearers,  as  we  have  a  text  to-day  which  brings 
us  upon  the  subject,  it  is  proper,  in  the  outset,  to  inquire 
how  far  the  Bible  teaches,  and  how  far  it  does  not,  the  doc- 


264  SERMON  XIV. 

trine  which  I  have  just  said  is  charged  upon  it  by  the  world. 
The  truth  is,  it  establishes  the  most  dehcate  and  inviolable 
distinction  between  the  different  grades  of  character.  It 
never  has  thrown,  and  never  will  throw,  honor  and  virtue 
upon  a  level  with  meanness  and  vice.  But  one  thing  it  has 
done, — it  has  made  love  to  God  an  indispensable  prere- 
quisite to  a  seat  in  the  kingdom  of  God.  It  does  not  put 
the  gentleman  on  a  par  with  the  vagabond,  nor  an  honest 
man  on  a  par  with  a  knave  ;  but  it  says  to  every  one  of 
them,  separately.  You  must  be  a  Christian.  In  a  word,  it 
pronounces  us  all  sinners,  and  calls  on  us  to  make  Jesus 
Christ  our  friend.  And  till  we  have  done  this,  no  matter 
what  else  we  may  do,  it  attaches  to  each  of  us,  the  poor 
man  and  the  rich  man,  the  man  of  honor  and  the  man  of 
meanness,  a  great  moral  defect,  which  can  be  remedied  only 
by  one  and  the  same  application. 

In  the  words  of  the  text,  there  is  something  at  first  sight 
extremely  mysterious.  They  seem  to  imply,  that  a  man,  by 
committing  one  crime,  must  of  course  incur  the  guilt  and 
the  punishment  of  all  other  crimes.  To  avoid  this  difficulty, 
some,  by  altering  a  letter  in  the  Greek,  have  made  the  pas- 
sage to  read,  "  Whosoever  shall  offend  in  one  point  is  un- 
doubtedly guilty."  This  opinion  might  be  satisfactory, 
were  it  not  grounded  on  a  deviation  from  the  original, 
which  every  body  confesses  no  Greek  MSS.  will  justify. 
Others  have  supposed  that  a  man,  by  committing  one  sin,  is 
in  fact  guilty  of  all,  because  he  opposes  the  authority  by 
which  all  are  forbidden.  But  this,  instead  of  removing,  in- 
creases the  embarrassment, — for  no  man  can  justly  be  con- 
demned for  one  crime  when  he  has  committed  another, 
merely  because  he  violates  the  law  which  prohibits  both. 
Such  a  principle  would  extinguish  the  very  idea  of  law. 
For  myself,  I  think  the  meaning  of  the  passage  to  be  this  ; 
The  Jews  had  a  favorite  opinion,  that  if  their  virtues  ex- 


SIN   INCONSISTENT   WITH    PIETY.  265 

ceeded  their  vices — if  they  kept  more  of  the  commandments 
than  they  broke — they  would  be  saved.  Against  their  per- 
nicious theology  the  apostle  James  has  levelled  the  whole 
of  this  epistle.  He  informs  them  that  they  could  not  keep 
part  of  the  commandments,  and  break  the  rest,  for  the  only 
true  way  to  keep  any,  was  from  a  desire  to  please  God  ;  and 
if  they  had  that  desire  at  all,  it  would  make  them  as  anxious 
to  keep  all  the  commandments  as  any  one  of  them.  He  tells 
them  that  their  conduct  was  not  acceptable,  from  its  me- 
chanical accommodation  to  the  Bible,  but  from  the  motive 
which  led  to  it, — love  to  God,  and  a  paramount  solicitude 
for  His  glory.  Then  comes  the  text,  "  Whosoever  shall 
offend  in  one  point,  he*  is  guilty  of  all ;"  or,  in  other 
words,  if  a  man  will  consent,  deliberately,  to  commit  one 
known  sin,  it  does  not  prove  that  he  has  committed  any 
other  particular  sin  ;  but  it  proves,  that  whatever  his  actions 
may  have  been,  his  motives  have  not  been  holy,  because  his 
heart  has  not  felt  the  love  of  God.  A  man  cannot  love  God, 
who  is  willing,  with  his  eyes  open,  to  violate  the  least  of 
His  laws,  or  bring  the  least  dishonor  on  His  attributes. 
This  is  the  doctrine  we  have  now  before  us.  And  here  it 
is  that  we  come  back  to  the  remark  made  a  moment  aero  : 
that  the  men  of  the  world  complain  of  the  Bible,  because  it 
sweeps  them  all,  without  regard  to  the  opinions  of  society, 
under  the  general  class  of  the  wicked. 

But  if  we  examine  the  case  with  candor,  my  hearers,  we 
shall  find  the  Bible  entirely  just  in  this  classification.  I 
can  conceive  of  a  man  upright  and  honest,  and  honorable, 
and  at  the  same  time  without  one  particle  of  religious  prin- 
ciple belonging  to  him.  And  what  judgment,  you  will  ask, 
is  to  be  pronounced  upon  him  ?  Why,  undoubtedly,  I  give 
him  credit  for  all  his  virtues,  and  the  world  gives  him  credit, 
and  we  pay  him  the  tribute  of  our  love  and  our  respect ; 
^nd  the  Bible   certainly  does  not  charge  upon  him  sins 


266  SERMON  XIV. 

which  he  never  committed.  On  the  contrary,  it  merely 
presses  home  to  him  the  single  question,  whether,  with  all 
his  virtues,  and  all  his  accomplishments,  he  is  not  ignorant 
of  that  love  to  God  which  the  Bible  has  required  of  him  ? 

Who,  my  hearers,  is  this  man  of  honor  and  integrity,  so 
little  deserving  the  name  of  wicked  ?     One,  I  answer,  who 
redeems  his  word,  and  does  no  injury  to  his  fellow,  and 
maintains  an  unsullied  reputation.     But  all  this  time,  the 
least  feeling  of  piety  need  not  appertain  to  him.     He  may 
be  an  occasional  swearer,  or  he  may  revenge  an  insult  with 
murder,  or  he  may  now  and  then  indulge  in  a  moderate  de- 
bauch.    At  all  events,  he  may  or  may  not  believe  the  Bible, 
or  believe  in  a  God.     Still,  he  is.  a  man  of  honor,  and  the 
world  calls  it  unjust  that  the  Bible  should  place  him  so  far 
on  a  level  with  the  knave,  as  to  say  equally  to  both  of  them, 
"  You  must  be  a  Christian  before  you  enter  the  kingdom  of 
Heaven."     I  admit,  if  a  man  adhere  to  the  rules  of  integ- 
rity and  honor,  for  the  sake  of  pleasing  his  God,  the  case 
would  be  different ;  but  the  only  evidence  I  can  have  of  this 
is,  that  he  should  do  every  thing,  in  his  whole  hfe  for  the 
sake  of  pleasing  God.     He  must  leave  off  his  swearing,  and 
his  proud  spirit  must  become  like  his  Saviour's,  and  he  must 
be  a  man  of  prayer  and  of  holiness.     Then   it  is  that  he 
gives  evidence  of  a  heart  anxious,  above  all  things,  to  per- 
form the  will  of  the  Most  High  when  and  wherever  it  is 
made  clear  to  him.     But  so  long  as  he  lives  in  the  commis- 
sion of  any  one  known  sin,  he  proves,  beyond  a  doubt,  that 
he  does  not  hate  sin,  because  God   hateth  it.     He  may  be 
upright  and  generous,  and  just ;  but,  though  he  should  keep 
the  whole  law,  and  yet  habitually  offend  in  one  point,  he 
proves  that  his  virtues  have  resulted  from  something  very 
different  from  love  to  God,  and,  therefore,  that  in  the  sight 
of  God   they  are  regarded  accordingly.     His  correct  and 
honorable  course  of  life  has  been  dictated  by  the  opinions 


SIN    INCONSISTENT    WITH    PIETY.  267 

of  the  world,  and  the  opinions  of  the  world  will  reward  him 
for  it.  He  will  command  the  esteem  and  the  affection  o{ 
his  fellows  ;  but  the  religious  character  of  the  man  is  an 
entirely  different  concern,  to  be  settled  not  by  appealing  to 
the  judgment  of  the  world  upon  him,  but  by  clearing  his 
heart  of  every  feeling  offensive  to  God,  and  humbling  it  into 
an  unreserved  and  complete  subjection  to  the  Bible.  But 
the  question  will  probably  arise,  If  all  this  rigor  be  enforced, 
what  is  to  become  of  Christians  themselves?  Do  not  they 
commit  sin  every  day, — and  are  not  the  best  of  us  liable  to  be 
hurried  into  conduct  which  the  spirit  of  Inspiration  con- 
demns? 

Even  so,  my  hearers,  it  is  all  true,  and  yet  by  no  means 
inconsistent  with  the  principles  I  have  just  advanced.  To 
be  hurried  into  sin  by  the  force  of  a  sudden  and  violent 
temptation,  is  one  thing,  and  to  fall  short  in  some  parts  of 
our  duty,  from  weakness  or  infirmity,  is  another  thing. 
But  to  do  an  action  deliberately  which  we  know  beforehand 
to  be  sinful,  and  to  be  forbidden  by  the  Word  of  God,  is  a 
thing  very  different  from  either  of  them.  It  is  the  most 
positive  evidence  which  can  be  given,  that  the  heart  is  radi- 
cally unholy.  No  matter  what  may  be  its  pretensions  to 
Christian  virtue  in  other  respects,  there  is  no  vital  Christi- 
anity in  it  while  it  consents  coolly  to  violate  the  least  law  of 
God,  knowing,  at  the  time,  that  it  is  displeasing  to  Him, 
and  opposed  to  the  purity  of  His  character.  I  may  be  car- 
ried, by  a  sudden  provocation,  away  from  my  self-command, 
so  as  to  commit  imprudence  ;  while  I  do  it,  my  mind  loses 
the  power  of  reflection, — and  afterwards,  if  I  am  a  Chris- 
tian, my  immediate  and  deep  repentance  will  show  that  the 
act  was  not  deliberate.  Again  :  I  may  be  a  Christian,  and 
yet  come  short  of  some  of  my  duty  to  God,  by  reason  of 
constitutional  infirmity,  or  of  the  embarrassments  and 
perplexities  which  surround  me. 


26S  SERMON    XIV. 

But  when  I  deliberately  consent  to  any  thing  which  I  am 
satisfied  will  be  displeasing  to  God,  I  renounce  all  right  to 
the   name   of  Christian,  and  become  at  once  an  outlaw 
from  the  commonwealth  of  Israel,  to   which  no  allegiance 
is  sincere  without  a  complete  and  unreserved  submission  of 
the  whole  heart  to  Jesus  Christ.     And  here  we  may  get  at 
the  meaning  of  the  apostle  John,  who  says,  '*  He  that  is 
born  of  God  doth  not  commit  sin."     The  fact  is,  he  does 
commit  sin.      The  apostle  himself  did,   and  deplored  it. 
But  he  is  speaking  of  deUberate,  known  sin.     To  commit 
such  sin  is  essentially  impossible  for  a  Christian.    Show  me 
a  man  who  would  purposely  lift  a  finger,   if  he  thought  it 
contrary  to  the  will  of  God,   and  I  will  show  you  a  man 
who  is  not  a  Christian,  and  who  never  will  be  till  he  learns 
to  obey  his  God  at  all  hazards,  though  a  thousand   worlds 
were  offered  to  flatter,   or  a  thousand  deaths  to   frighten 
him  from  it.     Now  take  this  rule  of  judgment,  and  go  back 
again  to  what  is  called  the  man   of  honor  and  integrity. 
Suppose  him  morally  correct  in  every  thing  but  one,   and 
let  that  one  thing  be,  if  you  please,  that  he  is  occasionally 
profane.     Let  him  keep  the  whole  law  externally,  and  only 
offend  in  this  one  point.     Here,  then,  is  an  individual  that 
I  respect  and  love.     His  reputation  in  society  is  unblemish- 
ed, and  his  feelings  are  those  of  a  gentleman,  and  his  de- 
portment is  dignified  and  proper.     Perhaps  all  this  time  he 
never  opened  the  Bible  in  his  life ;  but  suppose  he  has,  and 
suppose  I  ask  him  what  is  the  real  motive  which  dictates 
his  honorable  conduct  ?   If  he  say  that  it  arises  from  his  re- 
gard to  the  opinions  of  the  world,  I  reply,  that  the   world 
will  reward  him  ;  it  will  give  him  its  applause,  and  its  bless- 
ings, and  I  for  one  will  cheerfully  lend  my  share  of  influ- 
ence in  doing  so.     I  only  maintain  that  the   man  has  no 
right  to  expect  a  reward  from  his  God  for  what  he  has  done 
merely  in  deference  to  the  world.     But,  suppose  he  an- 


SIN    INCONSISTENT    WITH    PIETY.  269 

swer,  that  he  has  been  governed  by  a  desire  to  please  and 
to  obey  God.     I  offer  to  him  the  single  question,  why,  with 
any  real  desire  of  that  kind,  he  can  indulge  in  profaneness, 
when  the   Bible  has  aimed    its    most  solemn    prohibition 
against  it — if  he  sincerely  wish  to  please  God,  why  does  he 
not  abandon  every  sin,  and  become  a  man  of  prayer  and  of 
piety  ?     Why  is  it,  that  the  subject  of  personal  religion  is 
60  foreign  from  all  his  habits  of  thinking,  and  so  tiresome 
in  conversation,  and  so  unpleasant  when  it  is  urged  home 
on  his  conscience  ?     Is  a  man  hke  this,  because  he  is  ho- 
norable and  upright,  to  be  called  a  Christian  ?     Then,  the 
Bible  has  grievously  erred  in  telling  us  that  the  only  divi- 
sion will  be,  on  the   day  of  accounts,  between  him  that 
loveth  God,  and  him  that  loveth  Him  not.     After  all,  how- 
ever,  there  may   seem   to  be  a  difficulty  still  remaining, 
more  powerful  than  any  which  have  been  named.     The 
Bible  employs  but  two  expressions  to  denote  the  retributions 
of  eternity — those  tvv'oare,  Heaven  and  Hell.    That  Heaven 
should  be  the  abode  of  Christians  is  not  to  be  wondered  at. 
But  we  are  taught  that  all  but  Christians  are  punished  in 
Hell.    This  doctrine,  you  will  say,  is  putting  all  the  unregen- 
erate,  the  best  and  the  worst  of  them,  on  a  level.    The  man 
of  integrity  fares  no  better  than  the  dishonest  man,  and  the 
moral  no  better  than  the  immoral.     All  of  them,  if  desti- 
tute of  this  thing  called  religion,  must  be  alike  condemned 
to  Hell.    My  hearers,  if  you  will  read  the  Bible,   you  will 
find  that  it  recognises  in  the  plainest  manner  the  degrees 
of  future  punishment.    It  tells  us  that  men  are  to  be  judged 
according  to  the  deeds  done  in  the  body — and  that  some 
will  be  beaten  with  feWf  and  others  with  many  stripes ;  and 
that  every  individual  will  receive  the  reward  of  his  conduct, 
according  precisely  to  what  it  has  been.     I  know  that,  in 
reply  to  this,  it  is  said,  What  is  the  use  of  degrees  in  pun- 
ishment, so  long  as  the  punishment  itself  is  to  be  eternal  ? 


270  SERMON  XIV. 

Great  use,  my  hearers.  The  punishment  of  a  future 
world  consists  in  the  remorse  and  reproaches  of  a  lacerated 
conscience  ;  and  two  persons  may  both  be  punished  eternally, 
while  yet  their  punishment  will  be  very  different.  For  exam- 
ple ;  Suppose  one  of  them  had  spent  a  life  of  rapine  and 
blood  ;  think  you  his  conscience  will  inflict  on  him  no 
keener  sujffering  than  his,  who  has  been  an  honest  man, 
will  on  him  ?  Or,  suppose  one  had  been  educated  by  pious 
parents,  and  brought  up  in  the  arms  of  prayer  and  of  in- 
struction :  will  the  review  of  his  hardened  and  obstinate 
impenitence  in  eternity  give  him  no  greater  anguish  than 
if  he  had  been  but  little  enhghtened?  The  question  answers 
itself.  Every  man  is  punished  according  to  his  desert ;  and 
for  every  one  sin  which  we  have  committed,  and  no  more, 
and  for  every  one  duty  we  have  neglected,  and  no  more, — 
each  of  us,  through  an  endless  hereafter,  will  suffer  a  pro- 
portionate reproach  and  agony  of  conscience  in  that  world 
where  hope  never  comes.  I  say  each  of  us — I  am  wrong. 
The  Lord  Jesus  Christ  has  offered  to  extend  pardon  to  all 
who  put  their  trust  in  him.  To  his  mercy  the  honorable 
man  must  come,  as  well  as  the  dishonorable  man.  Both  of 
them  have  sinned — the  one  undoubtedly  more  than  the 
other — but  still  both  have  sinned  ;  and  both,  whatever  their 
sins  have  been,  must  repent  of  them  ;  and  if  they  do 
not  repent  here,  while  it  is  called  to-day — while  a  pardon  is 
offered — the  God  of  Heaven  has  decreed,  that  they  shall  re- 
pent in  the  illimitable  ages  of  a  lost  eternity.  If  I  place 
my  confidence  in  Christ,  he  will  wash  me  in  his  blood,  and 
shield  me  from  harm.  If  not,  my  being  an  honorable  and 
correct  man  may  mitigate,  and  my  being  dishonorable  and 
immoral,  may  increase  my  future  punishment ;  but  the  one, 
no  more  than  the  other,  can  send  my  never-dying  spirit  to 
Heaven. 

Now,  upon  the  whole  view  of  our  subject,  my  hearers, 


SIN   INCONSISTENT    "WITH    PIETY.  271 

what  I  want  is,  that  every   man  should   take   the  prin- 
ciple avowed  by  the   text,   into  his  own  heart,  and  apply 
it  to  himself.     In  consoling  ourselves,  by  saying  that  our 
lives  are,  on  the  whole,  moral,  or  that  we  have  but  few  pre- 
vailing foibles  of  character,  we  perhaps  forget  that  all  this 
may  be  very  true,  and  yet  not  in  the  least  connected  with 
the  great  question  of  Salvation.     The  point  for  us  to  settle 
is,  whether  from  real  love  to  God  we  have  abandoned  every 
one  of  our  known  sins,  and  made  an  entire  and  voluntary 
surrender  of  our  whole  hearts  to  Jesus  Christ  ?    If  a  man 
have  a  habit  of  profaneness,  or  a   habit   of  intemperance, 
or  a  habit  of  licentiousness,   or  a  habit  of  neglecting  his 
Bible  and  his  closet,  he  must  put  them  all  far,  and  forever 
away  from  him,  before  he  can  be  a  Christian  ;  and  it  is  no 
sort  of  comfort  to  him  as  to  the  prospect  of  Heaven,  that  he 
has  never  so  many  virtues — for  it  is  required  of  him,   that 
every  sin  be  relinquished  ;  and  if  he  were  rigidly  to  keep  the 
whole  law,  and  yet  habitually  offend  in  one  point,  he  is 
guilty  of  all  that  is  necessary   to  shut   him   out    from  the 
habitation  of  the  blessed.     It  may  be  a  galling  reflection, 
that  by  retaining  a  single  unholy  indulgence,  we  are  to  fore- 
go the  hope  of  eternal  life  ;  but  galling  or  not,  it  is  true, — 
and  it  becomes  us  to  lay  it  to  heart  with  the  deepest  so- 
lemnity, and  the  most  prayerful  anxiety.     If,  indeed,   we 
are  living  in  any  one  habit  of  sin,  the  apostle's  observation 
reaches  us  in  all  its  emphasis,  that  we  are  spiritually  dead 
while  we  live.     Jesus  Christ  takes  the  whole  of  our  hearts, 
or  he  takes  nothing  of  them  ;  and  on  us  it  depends,   whe- 
ther we  can  give  them  entirely  up  to  him,  and  be  saved — 
or,  whether  we  will  run  the  risk  of  ofi'ending  in  some  one 
favorite  point,  and  being  lost  for  ever  ? 


272  SERMON   XV. 


SERMON  XV. 

"Behold  I  bring  you  good  tidings  of  great  joy." 

Jjwke,  ii,,  10. 

With  the  connexion,  my  hearers,  to  which  this  passage 
belongs,  none  of  us,  it  is  believed,  can  be  unacquainted.  It 
announces  that  most  interesting  event  which  was  celebrated 
yesterday,  as  it  is  once  in  every  year,  by  a  very  large  pro- 
portion of  the  Christian  world.  We  are  informed,  that  on 
the  night  of  our  Saviour's  nativity,  a  messenger  was  sent 
from  Heaven  to  proclaim — what?  why,  that  Jesus  Christ 
was  born.  But,  then,  this  single  fact,  irrespective  of  the  re- 
sults to  which  it  afterwards  led,  was  not  so  unusually  joyful.  ^ 
Certainly  not.  It  was  another,  and  a  far  higher  considera- 
tion. It  was  because  the  long-expected  Messiah  had  come ; 
because  a  Redeemer  had  appeared  for  sinners;  because 
glory  could  then  be  ascribed  to  God  in  the  highest,  at  one 
and  the  same  moment  that  peace  was  published  on  our 
apostate  earth,  and  good  will  to  men.  These  were  the  re- 
flections which  animated  the  celestial  herald,  when  he  broke 
forth  into  the  triumphant  language  of  the  text.  But  after 
all,  my  hearers,  why  so  lively  an  exhibition  of  joy  at  the 
mere  birth  of  Jesus  Christ  1  Not,  surely,  because  he  brought 
along  with  him  the  ensigns  of  greatness,  and  splendor,  and 
pomp,  for  he  was  indigent  and  obscure  :  not  because  he 
came  to  enforce  the  great  principles  of  morality  and  virtue, 
— for  this  was  nothing  new,  Jewish  zeal  and  Pagan  philoso- 
phy had  done  all  this  before  ;  not,  finally,  because  he  was 
to  confirm  his  religion  by  the  surrender  of  his  life, — for  hun- 
dreds of  others,  from  that  period  down  to  the  present,  the 
disciples  of  Latialis,  of  Thor,  and  of  Juggernaut,  have 


ON   THE    ADVENT.  273 

Steeped  their  respective  altars  in  their  own  blood.  Where, 
then,  is  the  peculiar,  the  distinctive  object,  accomplished  by 
the  coming  of  Christ,  which  deserves  so  warm  an  expres- 
sion of  joy  as  our  text  has  conveyed  ?  It  is  to  this  single 
inquiry  that  I  wish  now  to  be  confined.  I  might  name  a 
thousand  results  which  Christianity  has  brought  about.  I 
might  say  that  it  has  abolished  idolatry,  and  arrested  human 
sacrifice,  and  alleviated  the  cruelties  of  war,  and  rescued 
the  female  character  from  contempt,  and  reared  the  first 
public  institutions  of  benevolence,  and  wrought,  in  short, 
upon  every  department  of  life,  the  process  of  a  salutary  and 
lasting  reformation.  All  this  I  might  safely  assert ;  but  I 
will  waive  it  for  the  present,  and  simply  ask,  what  results 
the  introduction  of  Christianity  has  accomplished,  which  are 
entirely  distinct  from  the  results  of  any  other  religion,  and 
peculiar  to  themselves  ?  What  has  our  Saviour,  whose  birth 
we  commemorate,  what  has  he  ever  said  or  done,  which  no- 
body had  ever  said  or  done  before  ?  This  question  may  be 
answered  in  very  few  words.  He  has,  1st,  by  making  an 
atonement  for  sin,  opened  a  safe  path  for  all  of  us  to  return 
to  God.  He  has,  2dly,  offered  to  help  us  along  in  it,  by 
imparting  the  influences  of  his  spirit  to  renovate  our  hearts. 
He  has,  finally^  in  becoming  mediator  between  God  and 
man,  between  the  judge  and  the  culprit,  insured  to  all  who 
trust  implicitly  in  his  merits,  the  reward  of  an  everlasting 
salvation. 

In  the  first  'place,  then,  Christianity  alone  proposes  an 
adequate  atonement  for  sin.  Say  what  we  will,  my  hearers, 
when  degenerate  man  approaches  his  Maker  for  pardon,  it 
must  be  through  the  medium  of  atonement.  In  every  coun- 
try, and  every  age,  this  has  been,  and  it  has  been  felt  to  be, 
the  only  method  of  reconciliation  with  God.  We  find  it  in 
the  theology  of  Egypt,  Greece,  and  Rome.  We  find  it  in 
the  former  worship  of  Europe  and  America ;  and  to  the  pre- 


274  SERMON    XV. 

sent  hour  we  find  it  through  the  largest  part  of  Asia,  Africa, 
and  the  Islands.  A  great  deal,  I  am  aware,  has  been  said 
in  modern  times  to  brow-beat  the  idea  of  atonement.  All 
of  us  have  heard  the  light  of  nature  cried  up  as  a  sufficient 
guide  in  our  religious  affairs.  But  what  light,  I  would  ask, 
can  nature  give ;  what  has  it  ever  given  to  a  sinner,  on  the 
question  of  his  hopes  for  eternity  ?  It  may  teach  him  to 
repent ;  but  this  will  not  answer  his  object ;  for  if  repentance 
can  cancel  the  sins  which  he  Jias  committed,  a  little  more  of 
it  will  cancel  the  sins  which  he  may  hereafter  commit, 
which  would  be  releasing  him  from  all  obligation  to  God 
whatever.  It  may  also  teach  him  to  reform.  But  this, 
again,  will  not  answer  his  object ;  for  if  reformation  will 
ensure  him  forgiveness,  he  may  put  it  off  as  long  as  he 
pleases,  so  he  begins  it  at  last ;  and  besides  that,  begin  it 
when  he  may,  so  far  from  cancelling  his  former  guilt,  he  is 
merely  discharging  his  duty,  without  undoing  a  single  thing 
which  he  had  done  before.  This  is  the  light  which  nature 
furnishes,  and  it  furnishes  no  more.  It  shows  the  sinner 
his  helplessness,  but  it  leaves  him  just  as  helpless  as  ever.  It 
shows  him  all  the  danger,  and  all  the  violence  of  the  disease, 
but  it  offers  no  remedy.  Do  not,  if  you  wish  to  know  the 
real  amount  of  all  this  light  of  nature,  do  not  inquire  of  those 
who  have  been  basking  for  years  in  the  sunshine  of  Reve. 
lation.  Go,  rather,  through  the  universal  history  of  the 
world  before  Christianity  appeared  ;  or  go  now  to  any  known 
country  whatever,  which  Christianity  has  not  visited,  and 
how  much  of  it  shall  we  find  in  such  a  survey  ?  Where 
was  the  light  of  nature  when  the  statute-books  of  all  civi- 
lized antiquity  were  legalising  human  immolation  ?  Where 
was  it  amidst  the  ferocious  and  bloody  rites  of  Freyer  and 
Woden  in  the  middle  ages  ?  And  where  is  it  now  on  the 
banks  of  the  Niger,  or  the  plains  of  Ceylon,  or  the  fields 
of  Hindostan,  or  the  cheerless  wastes  of  India  beyond  the 


ON    THE    ADVENT.  275 

Ganges  ?  When  you  or  I,  my  hearers,  are  lying  upon  our 
death-beds,  something  else  than  all  this  must  come  forward 
to  comfort  us ;  and  that  something  else  must  be  the  atone- 
ment of  Jesus  Christ,  which  lends  confidence  to  the  prayer 
of  wretchedness,  and  hope  to  the  tears  of  penitence.  The 
all-sufficient  Saviour  of  the  New  Testament  must  approach, 
and  tell  us  that  God  can  now  be  just,  and  yet  the  justifier 
of  him  that  believeth.  Nothing  besides  can  satisfy  the 
anxieties,  and  relieve  the  forebodings  of  the  sinner.  Nothing 
besides  can  send  home  to  his  laboring  conscience  the  assur- 
ance of  pardon.  In  entering  upon  the  last  hour  of  life,  we 
shall  find  the  eternity  beyond  it  completely  unprovided,  un- 
less Christ  be  in  us  the  hope  of  glory  ;  and  when  our  never- 
dying  spirits  take  their  flight  to  the  invisible  world,  it  will 
be  all  our  joy,  and  all  our  consolation,  not  that  we  loved 
God,  but  that  He  loved  us,  and  sent  His  Son  to  be  a  propi- 
tiation for  our  sins. 

But,  again :  I  have  said  that  Christianity  alone  provides 
for  the  regeneration  of  the  human  heart.  It  affords  the 
Spirit  of  God  to  give  a  new  bias  to  all  its  propensities,  and 
a  change  to  all  its  affections.  I  speak,  my  hearers,  as  much 
the  language  of  experience  as  the  language  of  Inspiration, 
when  I  tell  you  that  we  are  all  gone  out  of  the  way  ;  that 
there  is  none  who  doeth  good,  no,  not  one ;  that  the  carnal 
mind  is  enmity  against  God,  not  subject  to  His  law,  neither 
indeed  can  be.  By  this  I  do  not  mean  that  all  men  are  as 
bad  as  it  is  possible,  nor  that  there  is  little  or  no  difference 
between  the  different  classes  of  the  unregenerate.  But  I 
mean,  that  we  have  naturally  no  holiness,  and  that,  left  to 
themselves,  our  hearts  secretly  disrelish  holy  things ;  and 
that  the  virtues,  and  duties,  and  accomplishments,  we  may 
put  on  in  the  world,  do  not,  and  cannot  make  up  the  one 
article  of  spiritual  religion.  But,  admitting  all  this,  we  may, 
perhaps,  imagine  that  we  hold  in  our  hands  an  adequate  re- 


276  SERMON     XV, 

medy.  It  may  be,  that,  however  unwelcome  we  now  find 
that  part  of  the  Bible  which  tells  of  a  new  birth,  and  of 
sanctification,  we  still  believe  ourselves  capable  of  gradually 
conquering  our  distaste  for  it.  But  just  make  the  experi- 
ment. Carry  your  hearts  through  I  care  not  how  rigid  a 
discipline,  and  see  if  you  can  implant  in  them  that  supreme 
love  to  God  which  the  Gospel  requires.  See  if  you  can 
drill  yourselves  into  that  state  of  mind,  which  shall  draw 
from  your  lips  in  all  its  sincerity,  and  all  its  feeling,  the  ex- 
clamation of  the  psalmist,  "  Whom  have  I  in  heaven  but 
Thee,  and  there  is  none  upon  earth  that  I  desire  besides 
Thee!"  You  may,  I  admit,  commence  a  very  important 
and  useful  reformation.  You  may  restrain  the  corruptions 
of  nature,  and  enter  on  all  the  visible  duties  and  devotions 
of  Christianity.  You  may  form  the  habit  of  prayer,  and 
take  your  seat  at  the  communion,  and,  if  you  will,  encounter 
the  ridicule  and  reproach  which  are  heaped  on  the  people  of 
God.  But  while  you  are  doing  all  this,  let  me  inquire  if 
you  have  made  it  your  spontaneous  and  leading  desire  to  do 
it  ?  To  borrow  an  illustration,  you  may  easily  make  your- 
selves to  eat  wormwood,  and  by  repeated  trials,  you  may 
acquire  a  habit  of  eating  it  without  any  great  reluctance. 
But  the  question,  after  all,  will  be,  Can  you  make  yourselves 
to  love  wormwood,  so  as  to  feel  a  sense  of  uneasiness  and 
pain  when  it  is  denied  you  ?  No  more  can  you  discipline 
corrupt  nature  into  the  love  of  spiritual  and  experimental 
religion.  These  are  results  which  nothing  short  of  Divine 
power  can  accomplish,  for  we  are  dead  in  trespasses  and 
sins  ;  and  we  shall  remain  so,  if  the  Bible  be  true,  whatever 
we  may  think,  or  may  hope,  till  we  are  roused  by  the  thun- 
dering call  of  Omnipotence,  *'  Awake,  ye  that  sleep,  and 
arise  from  the  dead,  that  Christ  may  give  you  light."  When 
this  is  done,  our  hearts  will  begin  to  throb  with  the  pulsa- 
tions of  evangelical  piety,  and  not  before.     Till  then,  we 


ON    THE    ADVENT.  277 

might  as  well  expect  the  Ethiopian  to  change  his  skin,  or 
the  leopard  his  spots,  as  that  we  should  subdue  our  deep- 
seated  distaste  for  the  spirituality  of  religion.  Hope  may- 
flatter,  sin  may  deceive,  and  conscience  may  indulge  us, 
but  we  are  missing  our  aim,  till  we  apply  to  the  renovating 
power  of  the  New  Testament.  Jesus  Christ  has  offered  to 
take  the  work  of  our  regeneration  into  his  own  hands,  and 
no  man  living,  who  has  appHed  to  him  in  earnest,  has  ever 
been  disappointed.  He  is  strong  when  we  are  weak,  and 
he  is  able  when  we  are  helpless,  and  he  can  rescue  us,  and 
is  willing  to  rescue  us,  when,  left  to  ourselves,  we  should 
perish  forever. 

In  the  last  j)lace  :  I  have  said  that  Christianity  alone,  by 
providing  a  mediator  between  God  and  the  sinner,  has  se- 
cured to  all  who  trust  in  the  merits  of  Christ,  the  reward 
of  eternal  salvation.  It  is  true,  indeed,  the  idea  of  medi- 
ation did  not  originate  in  the  Bible.  So  far  as  I  know,  it 
is  familiar  in  the  concerns  of  religion,  to  every  country, 
and  every  period.  All  the  "apotheoses  of  Heathen  mytho- 
logy, all  the  demons  of  the  Grecian  and  Roman  schools, 
and  all  the  reputed  divinities  of  modern  Paganism,  are  only 
so  many  ideal  mediators  in  the  court  of  Heaven.  Indeed, 
when  we  confine  ourselves  to  the  range  of  our  own  every- 
day  observations, — when  we  see  one  class  of  persons  rely- 
ing on  the  intercession  of  angels  and  saints,  and  another  on 
the  innocence,  uprightness,  and  morality  of  their  lives,  and 
a  third,  if  you  please,  on  the  warmth  of  their  zeal,  and  the 
vigor  of  their  efforts,  in  the  service  of  Christ, — in  all  these 
cases  we  but  discover  the  different  forms  of  a  fancied  medi- 
ation. All  of  them  tend  to  one  and  the  same  point — the 
invention  of  some  method  for  reconciling  God  to  man. 
But  when  we  come  to  open  the  New  Testament,  a  scene  is 
presented  entirely  new.  Heathen  atonement,  self-righteous 
confidence,  and  fanatical  presumption  are  stript  of  their 
13 


278  SERMON     XV. 

plausibility,  and  exhibited  in  all  their  native  repugnance  to 
the  character  of  Jehovah.  One  great  Saviour  stands  re- 
vealed, who  has  borne  our  sins,  who  has  carried  our  sorrows, 
who  has  taken  our  nature  that  he  might  suffer,  and  re- 
tained a  Divine  nature  that  his  sufferings  might  avail,  and 
who,  amidst  all  the  anguish  and  agonies  of  the  Cross,  has 
become  the  mediator  of  the  new  covenant  for  the  salvation 
of  every  believer.  This  is  the  intelligence  which  the  Bible 
brings  us,  and  the  Bible  alone.  It  is  the  good  tidings  of 
great  joy  which  have  come  down  from  the  primitive  Chris- 
tians to  us,  and  are  making  their  way  in  triumph  over 
every  scheme  which  reason  had  devised  before,  or  pride  has 
suggested  since.  There  is  a  name  now  given  under  Heaven 
among  men,  whereby  they  may  be  saved,  and  that  is  the 
name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth.  There  is  a  voice  issuing  from  the 
throne  of  God,  "  Ho,  every  one  that  thirsteth,  come  ye  to  the 
waters  ;  and  he  that  hath  no  money,  come  ye,  buy  and  eat ; 
yea,  come  buy  wine  and  milk  without  money  and  without 
price."  There  is  a  promise  gone  forth,  and  the  perfections 
of  the  Almighty  are  pledged  to  perform  it ;  it  has  cheered 
many  a  trial,  and  dispersed  many  a  doubt,  and  illumined 
many  a  tear  ;  and  it  is  ringing  through  the  sanctuary  this 
very  day,  in  our  hearing,  "  Whosoever  cometh  unto  me,  I 
will  in  no  wise  cast  out.  Though  your  sins  be  as  scarlet, 
they  shall  be  white  as  snow  ;  though  they  be  red  like  crim- 
son, they  shall  be  as  wool."  Surely,  if  we  are  sinners,  if 
we  are  covered  with  the  leprosy  of  an  aggravated  and  un- 
utterable guilt,  if  the  God  who  presides  over  the  high  and 
awful  retributions  of  eternity,  is  holding  the  tremendous 
curse  of  His  law  in  reserve  for  the  obduracy  of  final  im- 
penitence ;  if  all  this  be  true,  the  news  of  a  mediator,  such 
as  ours,  so  merciful  and  so  free,  ought  to  awaken  the  loud- 
est song  of  our  praise.  No  wonder  that  the  virgin  should 
he  accosted  with  the  triumphant  salutation,  '♦  Hail  thou  that 


ON  THE   ADVENT.  279 

art  highly  favored"  ;  and  no  wonder  that  the  angels  of 
Heaven  should  shout  over  the  plains  of  Bethlehem  the  sub- 
lime and  impressive  anthem,  "  Glory  to  God  in  the  highest^ 
and  on  earth  peace,  good  will  to  men." 

Such,  my  hearers,  are  the  great  doctrines  of  Christianity, 
which  are  peculiar  to  themselves.  Such  are  some  of  the 
blessings  which  it  has  led  along  with  it  into  the  lives,  the 
hearts,  the  hopes  of  mankind.  Now  lay  your  hands  on 
your  bosoms,  and  say,  if  the  provision  of  an  atonement  for 
sin,  the  offer  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  and  the  assurance  of  an 
accepted  mediator,  say  if  these  be  not  indeed  good  tidings 
of  great  joy  ?  I  know,  if  you  were  called  upon  to  answer 
this  moment,  you  would  unanimously  answer.  Yes.  But  that 
is  not  exactly  what  1  want.  1  wish  to  know  how,  if  I  take 
you  at  your  word,  I  am  to  account  for  the  languor,  the 
apathy,  the  death-like  stillness  which  I  see,  and  every  body 
sees,  on  the  subject  of  religion  ?  Take  away  the  public 
worship  of  the  sanctuary,  and  what  think  you  would  be  left 
to  remind  us  that  Jesus  Christ  had  ever  lived,  or  ever  died, 
or  ever  provided  for  our  future  salvation  ?  Demolish  our 
churches,  and  then  put  down  a  heathen  in  the  heart  of  our 
population,  and  how  long  might  he  remain  there  without 
once  suspecting  that  we  believed  in  a  Redeemer,  who  had 
shed  his  heart's  blood  under  the  most  painful  and  distressing 
circumstances,  to  rescue  us  from  death  ?  Might  he  not  tarry 
with  us  year  after  year,  and  enter  into  our  families,  and 
converse  intimately  with  ourselves  ;  and,  if  he  should  dis- 
cover  that  we  were  not  heathen,  like  himself,  would  it  not 
be  by  observing  in  us  the  want  of  every  thing  like  heathen 
zeal  or  devotion  ? 

Perhaps  I  mistake  the  matter,  but  just  look  around  you, 
my  hearers,  and  what  do  you  find  ?  Every  thing  but  re- 
ligion sought  after,  every  thing  but  religion  talked  about, 
every  thing  but  religion  thought  of.     Go  seriously  into  your 


280  SERMON   XV. 

own  hearts.  Is  Jesus  Christ  formed  there  the  hope  of  glory  ? 
Are  your  affections  placed  on  things  above  ?  Do  you  really 
love  your  God  more  than  you  love  the  world  ?  Have  you 
found,  or  are  you  now  finding,  your  happiest  hours  in  your 
closets,  and  on  your  knees  ? 

What  more  shall  I  say  ?  Another  Christmas  has  come 
around,  and  seen  us,  perhaps,  further  from  the  Cross  of  Cal- 
vary than  the  last.  Another  year  is  almost  gone.  It  has 
carried  away  with  it  hundreds  of  our  acquaintances  and 
friends  to  the  judgment  seat.  It  has  seen  many  of  us  who 
survive  restored  from  the  dangers  of  sickness,  and  spared  a 
little  longer  ;  but,  perhaps,  it  leaves  us  as  it  found  us,  unre- 
conciled to  God,  and  unprepared  for  eternity.  There  is 
somewhere  in  the  Bible  these  passages,  "  My  spirit  shall  not 
always  strive  with  man,"  and  "He  that  being  often  reproved, 
hardeneth  his  neck,  shall  suddenly  be  destroyed,  and  that 
without  remedy." 

My  hearers,  have  you  ever  seen  the  lightning  of  heaven 
strike?  Have  you  remarked  that  it  gave  no  warning  of  its 
approach  ?  Have  you  observed  that  the  flash,  the  roar,  and 
the  rain,  were  all  the  work  of  an  instant  ?  *'  Behold,  now  is 
the  accepted  time  ;  behold,  now  is  the  day  of  salvation." 


WALKING  IN  WISDOM.  281 


SERMON  XVI. 

*'  Walk  in  wisdom  towards  them  that  are  without." 

ColossiuTis,  iv.,  5. 

Perhaps  there  never  was  a  man  whose  deportment  cor- 
responded more  exactly  with  his  profession,  than  did  the 
apostle  Paul's.  Soon  after  completing  his  studies,  prepara- 
tory to  public  life,  he  embraced  the  Christian  religion  ;  and 
from  that  period,  every  solicitude  and  every  effort  appeared 
to  be  absorbed  in  the  vocation  wherewith  he  was  called. 
Not  only  did  he  feel  the  Gospel  himself — not  only  did  he 
evince  his  attachment  to  its  doctrines  by  an  example  too 
pure  and  too  consistent  even  for  his  enemies  to  impeach — 
but  he  enjoined  on  all  the  followers  of  Christ  the  same  pu- 
rity. He  instructed  them  to  exempUfy  in  practice  the 
faith  they  had  professed  to  espouse,  and  the  temper  they 
were  bound  to  cherish  ;  in  a  word,  he  taught  them,  instead 
of  impeding  Christianity  by  conduct,  incompatible  with  its 
spirit,  to  walk  in  wisdom  before  the  world — to  live  down 
the  ridicule,  the  reproach,  and  the  opposition  marshalled 
against  it — to  maintain  that  sacred  consistency  of  charac- 
ter which  wit,  if  it  assailed,  could  not  depreciate,  and  ca- 
lumny, if  it  reached,  could  not  impair.  This  is  precisely 
the  sentiment  of  the  text.  The  expression  "  towards  them 
that  are  without,"  seems  to  regard  the  Church  as  a  kind 
of  enclosure ;  the  same  idea,  probably,  to  which  a  more  re- 
cent date  has  given  the  name  of  "the  Pale  of  the  Church." 
Around  this  enclosure,  the  unregenerate  are  supposed  to 
stand,  watchmg  the  Christian's  career — scrutinizing  his 
movements — magnifying  his  defects — and  leaning,  if  I  may 
say  so,  over  the  walls,  to  detect  every  foible,  every  infirm- 


282  SERMON  XVI. 

ity,   every  imperfection,  as  an  excuse  for  their  own  im- 
penitence. 

To  those,  therefore,  who  are  clothed  with  the  responsi- 
bihty  of  the  name  of  Christ,  the  words  of  the  apostle  are 
now  addressed.     None  of  us,  it  is  presumed,  can  question 
the  obligation  which  the  passage  imposes — none  can  be  in- 
sensible to  the  plain  and  solemn  duties  it  was  designed  to 
enforce.  ♦  For  this  reason  the  subject  will  be  thrown  into  a 
form  entirely  practical,  and  some  of  the  ways  suggested,  in 
which  professors  of  religion  ought  seriously  to  apply  it  to 
themselves.     And,  in  the  first  place,  they  can  never  mould 
their  example  by  the  injunction  of  the  text,  without  cher- 
ishing a  spirit  of  kindness  and  affection  towards  each  other. 
"  Herein,"  says  the  apostle,  **  we  are  assured  that  we  are 
the  children  of  God,  because  we  love  the  brethren."     In- 
deed, there  is  no  evidence  of  genuine  piety  more  decisive 
than  the  single  consideration,  that  the  image  of  Christ, 
wherever  we  find  it,  is  dear  to  our  hearts.    Should  any  of 
us,  after  a  long  and  dreary  exile  on  a  foreign  shore — after 
poverty  had  consumed  our  comforts,  and  misfortune  wasted 
our  hopes, — should  we,  at  such  a  period,   l«ap  with  trans- 
port, to  grasp  the  hand  of  a  fellow  countryman,  would  it  not 
evince  an  attachment  to  our  native  soil  1    How  much  more, 
then,  in  passing  through  the  wilderness  of  life — where  dan- 
gers surround  our  path,  and  difficulties  oppose  our  progress 
— where  the  flowers  have  been   withered,  the  beauty  de- 
faced, and  the  fragrance  polluted  by  sin — how  much  more, 
I  say,  does  that  man  evince  his  religion,  who  tramples  the 
tyranny  of  prejudice  under  his  feet,  and  hails  every  sincere 
and  humble  Christian  as  his  brother  in  the  Lord  Jesus  ? 
Not  only,  however,  does  a  disposition  like  this  pass  to  the 
account  of  our  piety,  but  it  promotes  in  a  high  degree  our 
personal  happiness.     If  there  be  any  one   tendency  calcu- 
lated to  make  a  man  miserable,  it  is  that  microscopic  scru- 


WALKING    IN   WISDOM.  283 

pulousness  which  sees  a  monster  in  every  opinion,  however 
trifling  that  differs  from  his  own.  To  invest  little  things 
with  a  consequence  which  does  not  belong  to  them,  invari- 
ably contracts  the  mind ;  and  to  contract  the  mind,  is  sure 
to  impoverish  the  cordiality  and  affection  of  the  heart.  I 
do  not  mean  that  our  sensibilities  should  sleep  over  the  dis- 
closure of  real  danger,  or  of  radical  corruption.  But,  to  be 
constantly  striving,  as  the  sacred  Scriptures  say,  about 
words  to  no  profit — to  keep  up  a  perpetual  harangue 
against  peculiarities  that  do  not  exist,  or,  if  they  do,  are  of 
very  little  importance — is  squandering  our  own  peace  ;  and 
especially  to  erect  differences  such  as  these  into  an  ob- 
struction of  Christian  harmony,  is,  or  ought  to  be,  a  source 
of  unceasing  disquietude. 

But  there  is  another  consideration  more  distinctly  em- 
braced by  the  text,  which  urges  on  the  followers  of  Christ 
a  charitable  and  conciliatory  temper  among  themselves, 
and  that  is,  the  vigilance  with  which  they  are  watched  by 
the  unregenerate.  Every  step  they  take  is  followed — any 
action  they  perform  is  inspected — every  word  they  utter, 
and  every  feeling  they  exhibit,  are  weighed.  Ah,  my  bre- 
thren, that  was  an  impressive  question  of  the  apostle  James  : 
Can  a  fountain  send  forth,  at  the  same  place,  sweet  water 
and  bitter?  It  is  no  wonder  at  all,  that  our  professions 
should  be  distrusted  by  the  impenitent — for,  in  the  first 
place,  they  are  ever  on  the  alert,  not  merely  to  detect  our 
infirmities,  but  to  exaggerate  them  into  positive  sins.  And 
besides,  how  can  they  credit  our  pretensions  of  love  to  God, 
when  they  witness,  day  after  day,  the  seeming  debility  of 
our  love  to  each  other  ?  How,  humanly  speaking,  can  we 
expect  them  to  embark  in  the  cause  of  Christ,  when  they 
see  it  cut  up  into  parties — promoted  by  insulated  and  some- 
times opposite  efforts — and  disgraced  by  the  feelings,  the 
feuds,  and  the  follies  of  the  world. 


284  SERMON  XVI. 

But,  on  those  of  us  who  bear  the  name  of  the  Lord 
Jesus,  it  is  not  incumbent  alone,  to  cherish  an  attachment 
to  each  other.  The  text  enjoins  a  second  duty  of  equal  and 
simultaneous  obligation,  that  we  should  exhibit  a  sincere 
affection  for  those  around  us.  For  an  intercourse  with 
mankind,  there  is  perhaps,  in  ordinary  cases,  no  better  rule 
of  conduct,  than  to  avoid  every  appearance  of  singularity. 
If  exceptions  should  occur — if  we  should  be  placed  in  cir- 
cumstances which  render  it  singular  for  a  man  to  obey  his 
God,  and  do  his  duty,  let  us  be  fearlessly  and  faithfully  sin- 
gular. But  in  the  general,  we  may  mingle  in  society  with- 
out exposures  of  this  kind.  We  are  at  liberty,  like  the  rest 
of  men,  to  select  our  associates ;  and  among  them,  as,  in- 
deed, wherever  we  go,  it  is  highly  important  that  we  should 
cherish,  the  amiable,  friendly,  and  benevolent  disposition 
of  our  Heavenly  Master.  We  may  be  cheerful  without  mirth, 
and  serious  without  moroseness.  Neither  bigoted  on  the 
one  hand,  nor  thoughtless  on  the  other.  We  may  make  a 
proper  use  of  the  blessings  of  this  world,  without  forget- 
ting the  retributions  and  solemnities  of  the  next. 

At  all  events,  when  we  associate,  as  we  often  shall,  with 
those  who  have  no  hope  in  Christ,  let  us  imitate  our  Saviour, 
who  looked  on  the  young  man,  in  the  Gospel,  and  loved 
him.  Let  us  view  their  characters  and  conduct  in  the  most 
favorable  light,  and  adopt  towards  them  a  corresponding 
deportment.  The  man  of  integrity  is  not  always  a  Chris- 
tian ;  the  warm-hearted  philanthropist  is  not  always  a 
Christian.  The  hero,  the  philosopher,  the  scholar,  the  gentle- 
man, the  friend,  are  not  always  Christians  ;  and,  in  all  pro- 
bability, they  never  would  be,  if  we  should  regard  them 
with  coldness  and  contumely,  because  they  were  not.  But 
if,  instead  of  this,  we  show  them  that  the  disciple  of  Jesus 
can  respect  what  is  respectable,  and  love  what  is  lovely, 
we  may  attain  by  it  a  double  object ;  we  may  borrow  their 


WALKING    IN   WISDOM.  285 

presence  in  our  private  circles,  and  their  patronage  in  our 
public  efforts  ;  and  more  than  that,  we  may  secure  the  pre- 
cious opportunity  of  approaching  them  with  the  intelligence 
of  life  and  immortality  brought  to  light  in  the  Gospel. 

But,  my  Christian  brethren,  when  all   these   duties  are 
performed,  there  is  one  still   more  solemn,  still   more  mo- 
mentous, remaining.     There  is  a  temper  of  another  kind  to 
be  manifested  towards  them   that  are  without.     I  mean  a 
deep  and  practical  solicitude  for  their  immortal  souls.     It  is 
in  this  connexion  that  the  text  seems  to  disclose  at  once  the 
full  scope  of  its  meaning.     To  the  salvation  of  our  fellow- 
men,  more  than  all  things  besides,  we  are  bound  to  devote 
our  influence,  our  prayers,  and  our  exertions.     Our  inJlU' 
ence^  because  each  of  us,  within  the   range  of  his  own  ac- 
quaintance, may  be  extensively  useful.     A  casual  remark, 
a  single  expostulation,  an  intelligent  and  affectionate  coun- 
sel, especially  when  dictated   by   the  friendship  of  years, 
may  send  some  sinner  to  the  arms  of  Christ.     Our  prayers, 
because  in  this,  if  in  nothing  else,  we  are  all  on  a  level. 
The   closet,  like    Heaven,  annihilates    the   advantages  of 
sex,  color,  and  condition.     Every  child  of  God  can  implore 
the  visitations  of  the  Spirit,  and  the  revival  of  pure  and 
practical   piety.     Our  exertions,  because,  individually,  we 
can  do  much,  but  united,  through  Christ  strengthening  us, 
we  can  do  all  things.     Every  day  is  opening  a  fresh  field 
for  Christian  activity  ;  and,  if  we  are  faithful  to  ourselves, 
to  our  fellow-men,  and  to  our  God,  we  shall  not,  we  cannot, 
live  in  vain.  But  why  do  I  enter  into  this  detail  ?  Where  can 
we  cast  our  eyes,  without  finding  the  most  powerful  motives 
to  energy  and  action  ?    Look,  for  one  moment,  over  the 
theatre  of  human  life,  and  how  many  affecting  considera- 
tions crowd   upon  the  mind  !     The  friends  of  our  bosoms, 
the  companions  of  our  childhood,  hundreds  who  are  dear  to 
us  by  every  tie  of  affection,  of  kindred,  and  of  nature,  des- 
13* 


'^6  SERMON  XVI. 

titute  of  a  hope  in  Christ!  The  great  panting  for  pre- 
ferment, the  rich  rioting  in  luxury,  the  gay  bewildered  by 
dissipation,  the  moral  resting  on  their  righteousness,  and 
even  the  serious  halting  between  two  eternities,  but  all,  all 
moving  on  to  the  judgment,  and  yet  wrapt  in  sleep  !  And 
are,  then,  any  left  to  plead  their  case  at  the  Throne  of 
Mercy  1  Any  to  wrestle  with  the  God  of  Israel  ?  Are 
there  no  sentinels  stationed  on  the  walls  of  Jerusalem? 
Will  no  one  sound  the  alarm  ?  Will  no  one  snatch  the 
trumpet,  and  break  the  slumbers  of  death  ?  Where  are 
those  who  call  themselves  Christians?  Are  their  lamps 
trimmed  and  burning,  to  irradiate  the  darkness  around 
them  ?  Are  their  prayers  swelling  through  the  Heavens, 
that  God  would  arise,  and  have  mercy  upon  Zion,  that  the 
time  to  favor  her,  yea,  that  the  set  time,  might  come? 

My  brethren,  this  is  a  solemn  subject.  Let  it  follow  us 
when  we  leave  these  altars.  Let  it  go  with  us  to  the  silence 
and  solitude  of  retirement.  Let  it  rouse  our  spiritual  lan- 
guor, and  invigorate  our  fidelity  to  Christ.  Let  it  cast  and 
keep  us  on  our  knees,  and  there  ring  the  tremendous  ques- 
tion through  our  hearts,  "  If  the  righteous  scarcely  be  saved, 
where  shall  the  ungodly  and  the  sinner  appear  ?" 


ENMITY  OF  THE  CARNAL    MIND.  287 


SERMON  XVII. 

"  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God." 

Romans,  viii.,  7. 

Every  man  who  reads  the  Bible  must  have  marked  the 
pointed,  not  to  say  the  singular,  manner  in  which  it  speaks 
of  the  human  family.  He  must  have  seen  how  it  sweeps 
each  and  every  one  of  them  under  the  charge  of  a  common 
character  of  hostility  to  God,  and  fixes  upon  them  all,  with- 
out reserve,  the  unsparing  epithets  of  guilt  and  condemna- 
tion. 

On  what  principle,  my  hearers,  is  this  to  be  accounted 
for  ?  The  case  is  certainly  different  in  the  ordinary  in- 
tercourse of  life.  Looking  around  us,  we  find  some  men, 
by  the  dignity  of  their  virtues,  and  the  lustre  of  their  ac- 
complishments, exalted  so  far  above  the  level  of  the  rest, 
that  they  deserve  an  entirely  different  classification.  But 
whenever  the  pages  of  Inspiration  are  consulted,  we  hear 
but  one  general  language  applied  to  all  the  descendants  of 
Adam.  A  language  which  admits  of  no  exception,  and 
listens  to  no  compromise  from  the  opinions  of  the  world, — 
which  plainly  tells  us  that  whatever  visible  decencies  we 
may  possess,  there  is  something  by  nature  materially  wrong 
in  every  individual's  heart,  and  that  man,  not  this  class  nor 
that  class,  but  the  whole,  have  become  dead  in  trespasses 
and  sins. 

Now,  if  the  positions  be  true  which  I  have  attempted, 
upon  two  former  Sabbaths,  to  establish  ;  if,  in  the  first 
place,  every  one  of  us,  as  a  thing  of  course,  is  born  with 
a  nature  depraved,  and  prompting  us  to  evil, — and  if,  in  the 
second  place,  every  one  of  us,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  has 


288  SERMON  XVII. 

yielded  to  that  nature,  instead  of  resisting  it,  and  actually 
done  evil, — it  becomes  a  subject  of  the  deepest  solemnity  and 
the  last  importance,  to  inquire  how  far  the  catastrophe  has 
extended — in  what  degree  the  charge  of  sinfulness  does 
really  lelong  to  us — whether,  in  short,  we  have  all  a  com- 
mon disease,  which,  little  as  we  may  discover  it  in  the  ex- 
tremities, is  fastened  with  a  fearful  violence  upon  the  vitals. 
It  is  to  this  discussion  that  we  are  now  invited  by  the  words 
of  the  text ;  and  it  will  carry  along  with  it  one  considera- 
tion, of  which  it  is  best  we  should  be  reminded  upon  the 
threshold.  In  ordinary  discourses,  nothing  is  more  easy 
than  to  apply  this  part  to  one  of  our  neighbors,  and  that 
part  to  another,  and  thus,  after  travelling  through  all  our 
acquaintances,  we  find,  when  the  preacher  is  done,  that  we 
have  contrived  to  divert  the  application  from  ourselves  en- 
tirely. But,  to-day,  the  whole  of  our  charity  may  remain 
at  home.  The  business  we  have  now  to  transact,  is  con- 
fined to  our  own  bosoms,  and  our  own  characters,  and  our 
own  hopes.  If  there  be  any  one  passage  in  the  Bible  which 
is  meant  for  all  of  us,  without  exception,  which  knocks  at 
every  pew  where  we  are  sitting,  and  says  to  every  person 
in  it,  "  Thou  art  the  man,"  it  is  the  short  but  comprehensive 
sentence  which  has  been  selected  for  the  text :  "  The  carnal 
mind,"  says  the  apostle,  *'  is  enmity  against  God."  And 
what  is  the  "  carnal  mind"  1  The  expression  occurs  only 
in  Scripture,  and  from  Scripture,  therefore,  are  we  to  learn 
its  import.  It  is  the  mind  of  a  sinner  in  his  natural  state, 
unpardoned  and  unregenerated.  And  what  is  enmity 
against  God  ?  Here,  too,  we  speak  only  on  the  authority 
of  Revelation.  It  is  not  hatred  to  the  Supreme  Being,  for 
the  sake  of  hating  him.  It  is  not  a  thirst  for  revenge,  and 
a  corresponding  vexation,  that  we  cannot  gratify  it.  It 
is  not  an  entire  and  ungrateful  insensibility  to  the  mercies 
we  receive.     Feelings  like  these  the  lowest  abandonment 


ENMITY  OF  THE  CARNAL    MIND.  289 

of  human  nature  does  not  harbor.  But  it  is  the  want  of 
every  thing  hke  spontaneous  disinterested  love  to  God,  of 
every  thing  Hke  that  hoHness  which  angels  have,  and  which 
we  shall  have,  when,  and  only  when,  we  are  renovated  by 
the  Holy  Spirit. 

Here,  then,  my  brethren,  we  are  all,  in  one  sense,  brought 
upon  a  level.     Of  the  best  of  us  and  of  the  worst  of  us,  it 
is  equally  true,  that  we  are  laboring  under  the   same  great 
moral  defect,  that,  in  a  natural  state,  there  is  no  principle 
of  holiness  in  the  heart,  and,  therefore,  nothing  which  can 
carry  us  to  Heaven,  whatever  may  be   our  standing  or  our 
virtues  in  the  eye  of  the  world.     I   do   not  mean  that  the 
unregenerate  have  no  regard  for  religion.     They  have  not 
only  this,  but  anxiety  also.     In  all  of  them,  probably,  more 
or  less,  the   subject  awakens  serious  thought.      But   the 
question  is,  whether  they  have  religion   itself?     Nor  do  I 
mean  that  they  are  all  equally  sinful.     The  man  of  morality 
and  honor  is  not  upon  a  par  with  the  reprobate.     But   the 
point  is,  whether  they  may  not  differ  never  so  much  from 
each   other,   and   yet   neither   of  them  be  a   follower  of 
Jesus  Christ.     It  is  not,  finally,  my  meaning,  that  the  future 
punishment  of  the  unregenerate  will  be  equal.     The  suffer- 
ings of  eternity  consist  in  the  remorse  and  reproaches  of 
conscience ;  hence  it  is  impossible  for  a  man  to  suffer,  ex- 
cept for  what  he  has  done,  or  for  what  he  has  left  undone. 
If  you  had  issued  an  order  to  two  of  your  servants,  and 
one  neglects  it,  and  falls  asleep,  while  the  other  neglects  it, 
and  sets  to  plundering  your  house,  there  is  no   doubt   that 
both  are  guilty,  and  that  neither  has  any  claim  to  your  fa- 
vor ;  but  you  surely  will  not  inflict  upon  them  the  same 
punishment. 

No,  my  hearers,  the  doctrine  of  the  text  involves  no  ab- 
surdity, and  no  injustice.  On  the  one  hand.  Inspiration 
has  stated  in  the  clearest  manner  the  terms  upon  which  we 


290  SERMON   XVII. 

may  be  saved  ;  on  the  other,  the  apostle  comes  forward, 
and  tells  us,  to-day,  that  no  man,  in  his  natural  state,  has 
the  least  feeling  of  holiness  or  of  love  to  God,  without 
which  every  hope  of  salvation  is  groundless. 

Now,  brethren,  what  I  have  to  ask  of  you  is,  if  St.  Paul 
has  really  spoken  the  truth  ?  To  this  inquiry  I  need  not 
apologise  for  expecting  your  serious  attention,  for  cer- 
tainly it  is  connected  with  the  highest  allotments  of  the 
human  soul,  with  all  that  is  valuable  here,  and  all  that  is 
great  and  lofty  hereafter.  The  doctrine,  then,  to  be  es- 
tablished is,  that  no  unregenerate  man  has  the  least  holiness, 
or  the  least  love  to  God.  I  prove  this  melancholy  and 
humihating  position,  first,  from  the  history  of  the  world. 
What  is  history,  but  the  record  of  perfidy,  and  disorder, 
and  crime  ?  Begin  where  we  will,  and  ransack,  if  we 
please,  every  age,  and  every  country,  and  we  find  the  earth 
little  else  than  one  vast  slaughter-house.  Here,  Paganism 
is  seen  kneeling  at  the  shrine  of  idolatry,  and  shouting  in 
triumph  over  the  march  of  its  desolations.  There,  is  Chris- 
tendom kindling  the  fires  of  the  martyrs,  and  soaking  the 
standard  of  the  Cross  in  their  blood.  On  the  one  hand, 
where  ignorance  and  savagism  have  presided  over  the  se- 
clusion of  the  wilderness,  nothing  is  heard  but  the  cry  of 
revenge,  and  the  yell  of  the  war-whoop,  and  the  dying 
shriek  of  the  victim.  Fly  to  the  other  hand,  where  Chris- 
tianity and  science  have  shed  refinement  upon  life,  and 
we  see  the  most  polished  nation  on  earth  leading  the  infuri- 
ated efforts  of  Atheism,  dethroning  Almighty  God,  and  eter- 
nising the  slumbers  of  death,  by  a  decree  of  the  empire. 
This  is  man,  under  every  form  of  society,  Jewish,  Pagan, 
Mahometan,  or  Christian.  And  is  it  possible  that,  in  a 
nature  like  this,  there  can  be  a  single  pulsation  of  holi- 
ness ? — a  nature  the  very  same  as  we  possess,  which  time 
does  not  extinguish,  which  situation  does  not  change,  which, 


ENMITY    OF  THE  CARNAL  MIND.  291 

for  nearly  six  thousand  long  and  dismal  years,  has  invariably, 
in  the  same  circumstances,  and  with  the  same  temptation, 
rushed  on  to  the  same  dreadful  excess. 

Secondly,  I  prove  the  apostle's  doctrine,  that  in  our  na- 
tural state  we  are  altogether  unholy  from  the  observation 
of  mankind.     It  is  not  my  wish  to  send  you  abroad  among 
the  debased  and  abandoned,  to  lead  you  into  our  public  re- 
ceptacles of  crime.    The  language  which  prisons,  and  peni- 
tentiaries, and  places  of  exile,  speak  to  us,  is  too  loud  and 
too  emphalical  to  need  a  repetition.     Nor  will  I  recount,  as 
recount  I  truly  might,  the  ten  thousand  forms  of  depravity 
which  we  detect  in  our  intercourse   with  each  other — the 
treachery — the  selfishness — the   pride — the  ambition — the 
hypocrisies — that  meet  our  eyes  whereever  we  choose  to 
turn  them,  from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  classes  of  society. 
Leave  these  things  out  of  the  computation — for  even  could 
we  or  did  we  completely  abstain  from  them,   it  would  fur- 
nish no  evidence  of  our   holiness,  because  our  abstinence 
migat  arise  from  a  variety  of  other  motives.     Look  rather 
upon  the  very  fairest  side  of  the  picture,  and  see  if  there  be 
any  thing  to  comfort  us.     Where  are  we  to  find  the  indi- 
cations of  love  to  God  ?     Is  it  in  the  warmth  and  fervor  of 
our  family  religion  ?     Is  it  in  the  care  with  which  we  bus- 
band  our  leisure  hours  for  the  devotions  of  the  closet  ?    Is  it 
in  the  animated  eye  and  kindling  countenance,  with  which 
we  tell  each  other  with  tears  what  God  has  done   for  our 
souls  ?    On  the  contrary,  have  not  subjects  like   these   be- 
come almost  synonymised  with  enthusiasm  and  superfluity  ? 
Alas,  Fny  brethren,  you  must  see  that  even  if  the  heart  had 
nothing  to  do  in  serving  God,  we  serve  Him  so  little,  so 
very  little,  that  it  deserves  not  the  name  of  affection.     But 
when  we  come  to  know  that  we  must  love  Him,  and  that 
too  supremely,  or  not  at  all,  we  cannot  in  candor  deny, 
that  it  actually  is  not  at  all. 


292  SERMON    XVII. 

Thirdly,  I  prove  that  the  unregenerate  have  no  holiness 
from  the  Bible.  What  is  the  language  in  which  they  are 
then  addressed?  Is  it  under  the  endearing  names  of  chil- 
dren— friends — favorites  ?  No  ;  they  have  not  so  much  as 
a  promise,  or  a  consolation,  from  one  lid  to  the  other,  ex- 
cept on  condition  of  breaking  off  from  their  sins.  They 
are  called  the  enemies  of  God — the  heirs  of  perdition — 
loveui  of  themselves — the  degenerate  plants  of  a  strange 
vine — the  children  of  disobedience — the  men  of  this  world. 
Open  the  oracles  of  Jehovah,  my  hearers,  and  judge  for 
yourselves  :  "  The  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God." 
Whose  carnal  mind  1  "  The  heart  is  deceitful  above  all 
things,  and  desperately  wicked."  Whose  heart?  "And 
God  saw  that  every  imagination  of  the  thoughts  of  man 
was  only  evil  continually."  What  is  meant  by  man  ?  "  There- 
fore,  they  that  are  in  the  flesh  cannot  please  God,  for  to  be 
carnally  minded  is  death."  What  is  the  import  of  this  ? 
"  The  natural  man  receiveth  not  the  things  of  the  Spirit,  for 
they  are  foolishness  unto  him — neither  can  he  know  them, 
because  they  are  spiritually  discerned."  Can  we  torture 
language  like  this  into  any  softened  or  quahfied  meaning  ? 
Brethren,  I  will  not  tire  your  patience,  nor  impeach  your 
candor,  by  pressing  the  evidence  of  the  Bible  further.  The 
whole  volume  might  be  brought  to  bear  upon  the  same 
point ;  but  enough  has  been  said — we  may  sleep  on  in  com- 
posed and  unsuspicious  impenitence — we  may  cling  with 
the  grasp  of  the  second  death  to  the  world, — but  sure  I  am, 
that  if  we  believe  at  all  in  Revelation,  the  judgment  and 
the  conscience  must  be  convinced. 

Fourthly,  and  finally,  I  prove  that  the  unregenerate  have 
no  holiness  from  the  experience  of  our  own  hearts.  It  is  a 
very  singular  and  alarming  fact,  that  no  man  who  appears 
to  have  had  his  heart  changed,  is  disposed  to  deny  the  doc- 


ENMITY  OF  THE  CARNAL    MINB.  293 

trine  ;  but  aside  from  the  testimony  of  Christians,  I  wish 
to  appeal  to  the  unregenerate  themselves.    Let  me  ask  them 
to  stand  up  at  the  bar  of  their  consciences  for   a  moment, 
and  surrounded  by  the  solemnities  of  the  presence  of  God, 
reply  each  and  every  one  of  them  to  questions  such  as  these  : 
Are  not  my  affections  engrossed  decidedly  more  by  some 
other  object,  than  by  the  service  of  my  Maker  ?    Have  I  any 
thing  of  that  warm  and  earnest  attachment  to  God,  which 
I  have  sometimes  felt  towards  an  earthly  friend  ?     Have  I 
even  for  a  single  hour  of  my  life,  found  more  enjoyment  in 
secret   religion,   than  in  some   favorite  worldly  scheme  ? 
Am  i  not  really  ashamed  to  take  up  my  cross  and   follow 
my  Saviour  to  the  sacramental  table,  and  to  the  self-denials 
and  mortifications  of  a  Christian  life  ?     And  if  I  were  con- 
vinced that  my  salvation  was  sure  without  experimental  re- 
ligion, would  not  my  heart,  of  its  own  accord,   be  satisfied 
with  mere  morality,  without   longing   at   all  for  spiritual 
godliness?     My  hearers,  how  you  may  answer  these  inqui- 
ries, it  is  not  for  me  to  conjecture.    If  the  honest  verdict  of 
conscience  should  be  against  you,  do  not  put  up  the  vision- 
ary pretension  of  love  to  God.     Do  not  hunt  over  the  tedi- 
ous and  constrained  duties  of  self-righteousness,  which  you 
may  have  performed  for  a  title  to  Heaven.     Rest  assured, 
that  in  His  eye,  who  looks  into  the  deepest  and   darkest 
workings  of  the  heart,  nothing  but  that  heart  itself,  in  all 
the  sincerity  of  its  penitence,  and  all  the  cordiality  of  its 
love,  and  all  the  entireness  of  its  self-surrender,  will  be  re- 
ceived as  the  evidence  of  that  holiness,   "  without  which 
no  man  can  see  the  Lord."     Thus  have  I  attempted  to  ex- 
hibit and  enforce  the  true  import  of  the  text,     I  am  aware, 
that  some  of  you  may  plead  a  sort  of  offset  to  it,  by  say- 
ing, that  you  do  many  things,  and  willingly  too,  which  the 
law  of  God  requires  of  you.     But  this,  my   hearers,   is  no 


294  SERMON  XVII. 

proof  of  genuine  love  to  God.  You  may  do  them,  not  be- 
cause  He  requires  it,  but  because  it  suits  your  interest,  or 
your  humor,  or,  perhaps,  because  you  are  anxious  for  some 
such  evidence  of  personal  religion.  But,  suppose  your  mo- 
tive be  a  direct  desire  to  do  that  which  is  pleasing  to  God. 
Here  neither  do  we  find  any  proof  of  genuine  love.  It 
may  be  very  convenient  for  me  to  please  the  man,  whom, 
in  the  honest  feeling  of  my  heart,  I  look  upon  with  dislike. 
The  hand  may  perform  a  thousand  acts  of  compliance  with 
his  will,  while  the  heart,  all  the  time,  may  regret  the  neces- 
sity to  which  it  is  driven.  But  further  still :  You  may  say 
that  you  have  had  within  you  the  consciousness  of  a  sen- 
sible love  to  God.  And  what  sort  of  Being  was  He  1  A  God 
of  mere  natural  perfection — unconnected  with  the  blood  of 
the  Cross,  and  unarmed  with  the  attributes  of  holiness,  and 
of  hatred  towards  sin?  Still,  then,  your  confidence  is  built 
upon  the  sand.  The  God  whom  sinners  are  to  love  is  God 
in  Christ — the  Being  who  bids  us  sanctify  Him  in  our 
hearts — who  receives  us  only  on  our  knees,  and  in  the  dust 
— who  calls  to  us  from  the  Throne  of  His  holiness,  "  Come 
out  from  the  world,  and  be  separate,  and  I  will  be  unto  you 
a  Father,  and  ye  shall  be  unto  me  for  sons  and  for  daugh- 
ters." If  we  have  done  so,  well — if  not,  no  plea,  and  no 
apology  we  can  urge,  will  shield  us  from  the  sweeping  im- 
putation of  having  a  carnal  mind,  which  is  enmity  against 
Him. 

There  are  those,  undoubtedly,  who  will  feel  a  sensible  re- 
coil from  so  severe  and  humiliating  a  doctrine,  and  all  I  can 
say  to  palliate  the  representation,  is,  that  it  comes  from  the 
pages  of  the  Bible.  It  is  a  doctrine,  which  lies  at  the  base 
of  Christianity.  It  is  one  of  those  doctrines  which  the 
apostles  spent  their  lives  in  preaching — which  clung  to  the 
witnesses  of  the  truth  in  the  vallies  of  Piedmont  and  Savoy 
— which  attended  Huss,  and  Jerome,  and  Hamilton,  to  the 


ENMITY   OF  THE  CARNAL  MIND.  295 

stake — which  cheered  Hooper,  Ridley,  Cranmer,  and  Lati- 
mer, in  the  fires  of  martyrdom — and  which  are  now  mov- 
ing on,  self-impelled,  to  fill  and  enrapture  the  universe  with 
the  mercy,  and  glory,  and  love  of  God.  Upon  ourselves, 
too,  it  seems  to  me,  that  the  sentiment  we  have  been  dis- 
cussing applies  with  a  most  solemn  emphasis.  It  is  easy, 
indeed,  to  look  around  among  acquaintances  and  friends, 
and  while  the  dignity  of  their  visible  accomplishments  meets 
the  eye,  to  forget  that  any  thing  more  is  required  of  them. 
But  O,  when  the  Bible  comes  along  with  its  disclosures — 
when  it  tears  aside  the  guise  of  all  our  external  decencies 
and  virtues,  and  reveals  the  mountain  of  sin  that  lies  be- 
neath them — when  it  proclaims  in  a  voice  of  ten  thousand 
thunders,  that  the  carnal  mind  is  enmity  against  God,  and 
that  we  may  get  very  near  to  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  and 
yet  never  step  over  the  threshold — then  it  is,  that  we  find 
the  overwhelming  importance  of  spiritual  religion — then  we 
realize  at  once,  what  must  have  been  the  feelings  of  Jesus 
Christ,  when  he  cried  with  tears  of  solicitude,  over  Jerusa- 
lem, "O  that  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou,  at  least  in  this 
thy  day,  the  things  which  belong  to  thy  peace !  but  now 
they  are  hid  from  thine  eyes." 

After  all,  however,  there  is  one  consolation  which  enli- 
vens the  most  oppressive  view  of  the  subject,  and  that  is, 
the  fountain  of  mercy  is  still  open.  Still  may  the  sinner  ap- 
proach— still  is  the  voice  of  invitation  resounding  through 
the  ranks  of  wretchedness  and  guilt.  And  are  there  none 
here  who  will  listen — who  will  believe,  that  to-day  is  the  ac- 
cepted time  ?  My  hearers,  how  you  may  feel,  I  cannot  tell, 
but  I  confess,  there  is  upon  my  mind,  I  know  not  what  im- 
pression,  that  we  are  not  always  to  remain  so  completely 
unmelted  and  unmoved.  There  must  be  a  time  coming, 
at  least,  I  hope  in  God  there  may  be,  when  we  shall  start  up 
from  our  lethargy — when  the  inquiry  shall  pass  from  one  to 


296  SERMON  XVII. 

the  other  of  us,  What  shall  I  do  to  be  saved  ? — and  when 
absorbed  in  the  visions  of  eternity,  many  a  poor  unpardoned 
sinner  within  these  walls,  shall  cause  the  angels  of  Heaven 
to  rejoice  that  he  has  repented.  *'  Why  will  ye  die,  O  house 
of  Israel?" 


DUTY   TO   ORPHANS.  297 


SERMON  XVIIL* 

"  Take  the  child  and  nurse  it  for  me,  and  I  will  give  thee  thy  wages." 

Exodus,  ii.,  8. 

The  task  assigned  me  to-day,  my  hearers,  is  one,  I  con- 
fess to  you,  which  I  would  willingly  have  been  spared.  Af- 
ter witnessing  the  recent  evidence  of  your  generosity — af- 
ter seeing  you  only  two  Sabbaths  ago,  crowding  around 
the  altar  of  humanity,  to  deposit  your  alms, — I  acknow- 
ledge it  is  unpleasant  so  soon  to  repeat  the  work  of  solicita- 
tion. Had  you  given  nothing  then,  I  might  plead  with  you 
now.  Had  I  discovered, when  the  call  of  distress  Me/i  reached 
your  ears,  that  you  turned  hard-hearted  away,  I  might  now 
speak  to  you  with  redoubled  warmth  and  energy.  But  con- 
trary to  all  this,  you  came  forward  with  cheerfulness  to  the 
invitation.  You  cast  your  mites  into  the  treasury  at  a  pe- 
riod when  the  pressure  of  the  times  might  almost  have  jus- 
tified your  refusal  to  do  so  ;  and  I  will  not  conceal  that  such 
conduct,  although  the  surest  pledge  of  success  in  asking 
your  charity  again,  has  thrown  over  me  a  feeling  of  sensi- 
ble reluctance  in  being  called  to  make  the  application.  In 
another  view  of  the  subject,  however,  1  find  much  to  in- 
spire confidence. 

The  institution  on  whose  behalf  I  address  you  has  al- 
ready that  sort  of  standing  which  saves  me  the  trouble  of 
pushing  its  claims.  You  have  seen  it  from  its  origin  to  the 
present  hour,  passing,  unhurt,  the  different  stages  of  its  pro- 
gress, till  now,  if  I  may  say  so,  its  character  is  formed. 
None  of  us  at  this  late  day  need  be  told,  that,  in  bestowing 

*  Preached  in  behalf  of  a  Female  Orphan  Asylum. 


298  SERMON   XVllt. 

our  bounty  here,  we  do  an  act  which  is  not  merely  dictated 
by  benevolence,  but  approved  by  the  soundest  maxims  of 
political  economy.     I    say  political  economy,  and  yet  a 
spirit  of  discouragement  has  arisen,  I  admit,  both  in  Eng- 
land and  America,  towards  the  general  principle  of  public 
charities.     For  why  ?    Because,  by  holding  out  the  offer  of 
gratuitous  support,  they  go  to  perpetuate  idleness  and  dis- 
suade it  from  every  effort  to  take  care  of  itself.     Why  is  it 
that  the  poor  rates  for  the  last  ten  years  have  increased,  on 
both    sides  the   Atlantic,  more  than  thirty   per  cent,  be- 
yond the  proportionate  increase  of  population  ?     There  is 
no  cause  for  it  which  we  can  see,  unless  it  be  that  chari* 
table  institutions,  in  the  same  time,  have  been  multiplied  in 
very  nearly  the  same  ratio.     All  this,  however,  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the    political  economy  of    maintaining    indi* 
gent  female  orphans.      They  constitute  a  splendid   and  ho- 
norable exception  to  the  rule ;  and   in  every  document  on 
the  subject  of  pauperism,  foreign  or  domestic,  the  provision 
made  for  their  support  is  invariably  shielded  from  the  cen- 
sure   to  which    ordinary    forms   of   systematical    charity 
are  exposed.     The  reason  of  it  is  obvious.     None  of  the 
objections  which  lie  so  formidably  in  the  one  case  can  be 
detected  for  a  moment  in  the  other.     For  example :  there 
is  no  facility  for  idleness  ;  on  the  contrary,  the  inmates  of 
the  asylum  are  trained  to  every  species  of  occupation  which 
their  probable  allotment  in  life  may  require.     Again  :  there 
are  no  encouragements  to  poverty.     So  far   from  it,  when 
the  individuals  become  of  an  age  to  gain  their  own  subsist* 
ence,  they  are  expected,  in  the  pursuit  of  a  virtuous  and  ho- 
norable employment,  to  provide  for  themselves.  What  less, 
I  would  ask,   can  be  done  for  them,  if  any  thing  be  done, 
than  this  ?     What  less  than  to  rescue  them  from  the  world 
till  they  are  prepared  with  safety  to  enter  it ;  to  shelter  the 
tender  plants  from  exposure  till  they  may  he  exposed  with- 


DUTY  TO  ORPHANS.  299 

out  the  certainty  of  ruin  ?  No,  ray  hearers,  never  will  an 
institution  like  this  withdraw  its  claims  to  public  patronage 
till  helplessness  ceases  to  deserve  relief  and  innocence  to  re- 
quire protection.  If  it  were  supposable  that  a  female  child, 
thrown  parentless  on  the  v/orld,  and  especially  in  a  slave 
country,  where  the  chance  of  labor  is  often  the  necessity  of 
degradation — that  such  an  one,  with  no  instructions  to  fol- 
low and  no  example  to  imitate,  should  travel  along  to  wo- 
noanhood  without  a  lost  character  and  extinguished  virtues, 
and  blasted  hopes,  if  she  ever  had  any — could  we  conceive 
of  such  an  event  in  the  common  course  of  things,  then,  but 
not  till  then,  might  we  rally  philosophy  ^enough  to  lower 
the  Female  Orphan  Asylum  a  single  inch  from  its  present 
dignified  and  lofty  elevation. 

But  it  is  time  that  I  return  to  the  passage  which  I  have 
read  to  you  from  the  sacred  Scriptures. 

Daring  the  reign  of  one  of  the  most  celebrated  of  the 
Egyptian  monarchs,  an  order  was  issued  to  check  the  in- 
crease of  the  Hebrews  who  resided  in  the  country,  by  de- 
stroying all  their  male  children.  At  that  period,  Moses,  the 
subsequent  author  of  the  Pentateuch,  was  in  the  cradle. 
His  mother,  hunted  and  terrified  by  the  public  officers,  con- 
cealed her  child  in  a  basket  under  the  banks  of  the  Nile, 
while  his  little  sister,  as  being  less  liable  to  suspicion,  stood 
at  a  distance  to  await  the  almost  hopeless  event.  In  this 
situation  a  daughter  of  the  king,  whom  Josephus  calls 
Thermutes,  while  walking  near  the  river,  discovered  the 
basket  and  sent  one  of  her  attendants  to  bring  it.  It  was 
accordingly  brought  to  her,  and,  when  opened,  she  saw  the 
infant,  who,  from  being  so  long  deserted,  was  weeping. 
As  might  have  been  presumed,  she  was  extremely  affected 
herself;  but,  aware  of  the  royal  edict,  instead  of  taking  the 
babe  home,  she  instructed  his  little  sister,  who  Was  standing 
by,  to  go  for  a  Hebrew  nurse.     The  messenger  obeyed,  and 


300  SERMON  XVIII. 

on  her  return  brought  with  her  a  female  whom  the  princess 
addressed  in  the  words  of  the  text — "  Take  this  child  and 
nurse  it  for  me,  and  I  will  give  thee  thy  wages."  We  need 
not  wonder  that  the  woman  readily  undertook  the  office, 
for  she  proved  to  be  none  else  than  the  child's  own  mother. 

Such  is  the  story  as  it  is  told  in  the  simple  and  touching 
language  of  Inspiration,  and  such  is  the  intrepid  heroism  of 
philanthropy,  and  such  is  the  mysterious  way  in  which  God 
becomes  a  father  to  the  fatherless,  by  making  use  of  the 
feeble  instrumentalities  entrusted  to  mankind.  Alas,  my 
hearers,  how  affecting  a  representation  does  this  narrative 
convey  of  these  helpless  orphans  before  us  !  True,  they  are 
not  abandoned  to  the  waters  of  the  Nile  ;  they  are  not  con- 
demned by  the  cruelty  of  despotism  to  the  horrible  process 
of  premature  strangulation.  But  what  then  ?  They  are 
orphans  :  and  where,  in  the  whole  variety  of  human  epithets, 
is  a  name  which  carries  along  with  it  so  many  images  of 
sorrow  and  woe  ?  They  are  orphans :  and  if  you  have  had 
a  father  to  fold  you  in  his  arms  and  bless  you,  and  a  mo- 
ther to  press  you  to  her  heart  and  call  you  her  child, — if 
you  have  felt  the  kiss  of  parental  tenderness  imprinted  on 
your  lips,  or  the  tear  of  parental  solicitude  dropping  on 
your  cheeks,  you  can  imagine  their  condition.  They  are 
orphans :  and  through  all  the  vast  profusion  of  this  world's 
magnificence  and  wealth,  not  a  dwelling  opens  where  they 
can  go,  and  say,  "  We  are  at  home  !" 

Human  life  is  sweetened  by  the  serenity  of  domestic 
peace,  but  it  is  not  for  them.  The  fireside  collects  the 
happy  family,  and  gladdens  the  brow  of  affection,  but  they 
have  no  part  there.  Silent,  solitary,  and  forlorn,  they  look 
to  the  sky  for  their  shelter,  and  to  mankind  for  their  friends. 
One  thing,  however,  blessed  be  God,  they  do  possess ;  and 
that  is,  an  asylum,  which  has  taken  them,  and  nursed  them 
on  the  bosom  of  its  charity.     From  the  wreck  of  all  their 


DUTY  TO  ORPHANS.  301 

earliest  and  warmest  expectations,  it  has  devised  a  plan  for 
their  rescue  ;  it  has  supplied  their  wants,  and  cheered  their 
despondency  ;  it  has  fed  their  hunger,  and  clothed  their  na- 
kedness, and  visited  their  affliction,  and  housed  them  at  last 
beneath  the  roof  of  a  protecting  beneficence.  Tell  me,  ye 
patrons  of  deserted  misfortune,  whence  came  your  project 
of  mercy  ?  Was  it  not  from  mothers  ?  from  those  who  had 
looked  forward  to  the  possibility  of  lying  themselves  upon 
the  bed  of  death,  with  their  children  clustering  around  them 
in  the  interesting  attitude  of  predestined  and  unprovided  or- 
phanage? If  so,  the  event  is  explained.  If  so,  it  is  easy 
to  account  for  all  you  have  yet  done,  for  all  you  may  do 
hereafter ;  and  let  me  only  say,  that  if  there  be  on  earth  a 
spectacle  of  unrivalled  sublimity  and  glory,  it  is  when  the 
loveliness  of  woman  embarks  in  the  sacred  enterprise  of  col- 
lecting the  wandering  little  outcasts  of  her  sex,  and  leading 
them  along,  with  a  mother's  care,  in  the  paths  of  innocence 
and  virtue.  Do  not  think,  however,  you  who  have  achieved 
all  this,  that  you  will  go  unpaid.  No  :  in  the  language  of 
our  text,  you  will  have  your  wages^  and  "  the  bread  which  you 
have  cast  upon  the  waters  will  return  to  you  after  many 
days."  Methinks  you  would  be  rewarded  enough,  could  these 
children  find  words  to  testify  their  gratitude.  In  listening  . 
to  them,  they  would  say.  You  ransomed  us  from  the  con- 
tagion of  the  world.  When  our  dear  parents  were  sleeping 
in  the  dust,  you  came  forward  and  offered  us  a  home.  You 
shed  over  us  the  tears  of  pity,  and  we  saw  your  eyes  fill, 
and  your  bosoms  throb,  while  you  heard  the  tale  of  our 
wretchedness.  You  have  been  our  mothers,  our  more  than 
mothers.  You  have  fed  us,  when  we  were  "  poor  and  fa- 
therless, and  had  none  to  help  us." 

But  this  is  not  all.    Let  me  show  you  your  reward  in  an- 
other light.     Go,  then, — you  know  my  meaning ;  if  not,  I 
dare  not  tell  you.    Go  where  woman  is  incarcerated  in  the 
14 


302  SERMON  xriii. 

sepulchre  of  her  own  pollution  !  But  for  you,  nine  out  of 
ten  of  these  orphans  would  sooner  or  later  have  been  there, 
consigned  to  the  irretrievable  damnation  of  that  earthly  hell. 
And  O,  if  you  have  saved  but  one, — if  one  by  your  instru- 
mentality has  been  kept  back  from  that  teiTific  and  appal- 
ling charnel-house,  where  all  within  is  horror,  and  all  around 
is  desolation,— if  this  single  triumph  has  followed  the  march 
of  your  benevolence,  your  wages  are  already  paid  ;  you  have 
gained  a  laurel  which  does  not  crimson  the  brow  it  deco- 
rates. And  if  the  justice  were  done  on  earth  which  is  done 
in  Heaven,  your  names  would  live  in  columns  of  marble, 
while  hundreds  of  monarchs  and  heroes,  dripping  with  blood, 
would  be  lost,  as  they  ought  to  be,  in  irrecoverable  oblivion. 
And  now,  my  brethren,  I  turn  to  you.  Although  reluctant, 
OB  some  accounts,  to  renew  my  appeal  to  your  generosity 
so  soon,  there  are  others  on  which  I  feel  a  sensible  encour- 
agement, and  especially  so,  because  for  a  year  to  come  no 
public  call  will  again  be  made  upon  you.  This,  therefore, 
if  I  may  say  so,  is  the  last  discount-day  of  your  benevo- 
lence ;  and  if  I  thought  so  meanly  of  any  one  of  you,  as  to 
deem  you  capable  of  evading  the  demand,  I  would  speak 
accordingly.  I  would  ask  you  to  throw  in  all  that  you  had  ; 
and  if  you  had  nothing,  I  would  request  you  to  borrow  a 
neighbor's  pencil,  and  write  an  obligation  ;  and  if  you  could 
not  do  this,.  I  would  solicit  you  to  deposit  some  article  as  a 
pledge,  to  be  redeemed  hereafter.  But,  my  hearers,  I  should 
be  insincere  to  push  the  subject  with  anything  like  such  a  ve- 
hemence. If  I  know  my  heart,  I  would  not  have  you  give 
this  hour  what  you  might  withhold  the  next.  On  the  con- 
trary, had  I  never  so  great  a  power  to  goad  you  up  to  an 
artificial  excitement,  I  should  blush  to  use  it  in  a  cause  like 
that  of  this  asylum — an  asylum  for  helpless  female  orphans, 
who  know  no  other  parents  than  you,  and  no  other  support 
than  your  liberality. 


DUTY   TO   ORPHANS.  303 

After  all,  however,  it  would  be  foregoing  my  duty,  not  to 
tell  you  that  there  are  some  motives  to  our  charity  to-day, 
which  ought  not  to  be  passed  over  in  silence.  We  are  called 
upon  to  help  forward  a  sex  to  whom  we  owe  much  of  our 
happiness,  in  a  work  which  they  have  deeply  at  heart.  They 
have  asked  our  assistance ;  and  perhaps  I  mistake  the  mat- 
ter, but  I  have  yet  to  learn,  that  ladies  who  pay  eight  dol- 
lars annually  themselves,  besides  their  services,  will  find  us 
a  single  shilling  behindhand. 

Again  :  the  asylum  seriously  deserves  our  support.  It 
has  sheltered  in  all  fifty-four  female  orphans  ;  and  what  has 
become  of  them  ?  Why,  twenty-nine  are  there  still  ;  three 
are  dead  ;  a  few  have  been  removed  by  their  friends ;  and 
the  rest,  where  are  they  ? — lost  ?  indolent  1  or  abandoned  ? 
No,  my  hearers,  they  are  placed  in  reputable  and  virtuous 
families,  to  earn  their  own  subsistence. 

Again,  and  I  have  no  more  to  say :  You  see  before  you 
the  affecting  group  of  dependence  and  orphanage  for  which 
I  plead.  They  once  had  a  father  to  guard,  and  a  mother  to 
counsel  them,  but  they  have  them  no  more.  These  are  my 
little  clients,  lying  at  your  mercy.  Will  you  spurn  them 
from  you  ?  Shall  they  go  from  this  place  with  a  fresh  burst 
of  tears  over  their  unpitied  misfortune  ?  Then,  be  it  so. 
The  God  of  the  fatherless  will  take  care  of  them  ;  He  will 
fold  them  to  His  heart,  and  bless  them.  The  Lord  Jesus 
will  seek  them  out,  as  he  did  us,  in  the  solitude  of  their  un- 
compassionated  bereavement,  and  cheer  them,  as  he  has 
cheered  us,  with  the  accents  of  protection  and  mercy.  Have 
j'ou  ever  thought,  my  hearers,  that  there  is  a  most  impres- 
sive sense  in  which  we  once  were  all  left  fatherless  and 
poor  ?  Have  you  ever  looked  back  to  the  time  when  we 
were  cast  into  the  open  field,  weltering  in  our  blood,  and 
barred  to  a  heart-rending  distance  from  our  Heavenly  parent. 
Yes,  and  there  was  no  hope  but  in  the  charities  of  Christ. 


304  SERMON   XVIII* 

Did  he  stand  unmelted  and  unmoved  over  the  scene  of  de- 
solation 1  Did  he  hesitate  in  the  offer  of  a  gratuitous  reUef  ? 
Did  he  say,  as  he  might  have  said,  I  cannot  leave  the  joys 
of  Heaven  to  go  down  and  bleed,  and  suffer,  and  die.  Ah, 
no  !  He  did  leave  Heaven.  He  did  bleed,  and  suffer,  and 
die.  He  looked  upon  a  world  of  orphan  sinners,  unpitied 
and  unprovided,  and  cried.  Save  them,  O,  save  them,  and  I 
will  be  myself  the  ransom.  While  the  prodigal  was  yet  a 
great  way  off,  the  father  ran,  and  fell  on  his  neck,  and 
kissed  him,  and  said,  "  This  my  son  was  lost,  and  is  found." 
To-day,  my  hearers,  we  are  called  to  imitate  the  high  ex- 
ample of  the  Saviour,  There  are  the  little  sufferers  who  are 
pleading  for  our  help.  They  lift  to  us  their  imploring  looks, 
as  if  to  say.  Do  not  blame  us  for  our  misfortune,  for  it  was 
God,  and  not  we,  who  laid  our  parents  in  the  grave.  There 
they  sit,  waiting  the  result  of  their  appeal,  with  tearful  eyes 
and  throbbing  hearts.  And  O,  what  a  gladsome  hour  will 
it  be,  if  this  anniversary,  which  reminds  them,  on  the  one 
hand,  of  their  dependence,  should  show  them,  on  the  other, 
that  they  can  never  want  while  you  are  living  to  provide 
for  them. 


EXCUSES  OF   THE    IMPENITENT.  305 


SERMON  XIX. 

"  And  they  all  with  one  consent  began  to  make  excuse." 

Luke,  xiv,  18. 

You  need  not  be  reminded,  my  hearers,  that  the  parable 
of  the  Supper,  to  which  this  passage  belongs,  was  intended 
to  represent  the  success  of  our  Saviour's  Gospel.  A  no- 
bleman, on  the  marriage  of  his  son,  is  supposed  to  have  pro- 
vided a  magnificent  entertainment.  Invitations  were  is- 
sued through  the  circle  of  his  acquaintance,  and  at  the  ap- 
pointed hour,  waiting  only  for  the  arrival  of  the  guests,  he 
despatched  his  attendants  to  inform  them  that  all  things 
were  ready.  And  what  think  you  was  their  return  for  this 
welcoming  hospitality  ?  Why,  merely  the  hollow  and  hy- 
pocritical ceremony  of  pleading  other  engagements.  When 
the  time  arrived  for  the  festival,  it  appeared  that  what  with 
farms,  and  what  with  merchandise,  and  what  with  domes- 
tic cares,  all  who  were  invited  had  with  one  consent  made 
excuse.  Very  much  in  the  same  way,  I  repeat  it,  do  man- 
kind contrive  to  evade  the  invitations  of  the  Saviour.  Hence 
it  seems  to  have  been  his  aim,  when  he  spoke  the  parable, 
to  denote,  primarily  perhaps,  the  perverseness  of  the  Jews 
in  rejecting  his  Messiahship,  but  chiefly  the  perverseness  of 
sinners,  in  every  age,  in  putting  away  from  them  the  bless- 
ings of  evangelical  religion.  The  feast  of  the  Gospel  is 
still  open.  Still  does  Christianity  offer  her  repast  of  joys 
unspeakable  and  full  of  glory.  Still  the  bountiful  Provider 
of  the  entertainment  is  sending  forth  his  repeated  and  en- 
couraging invitations.  But  ail  this  time  we  cling  to  some 
frivolous  excuse,  and  while  every  preparation  is  made,  and 


306  SERMON  XIX. 

nothing  wanting  but  our  acceptance,  we  turn  unpersuaded 
away. 

There  is,  in  the  first  place,  a  class  of  persons  who  palli- 
ate their  neglect  of  religion  by  pleading  the  want  of  time 
to  attend  to  it.  This  apology,  ungrateful  and  ungenerous 
as  it  may  seem,  is  frequently,  I  have  no  doubt,  grounded  in 
truth.  Hundreds  of  men  there  are  who  parcel  out  life  into 
those  nice  apportionments,  which  really  absorb  the  whole, 
and  leave  the  concerns  of  the  soul  entirely  unprovided  for. 
For  example :  they  allot  the  morning  to  business  and  the 
afternoon  to  the  hospitalities  of  the  table,  and  the  evening 
to  a  necessary  relaxation,  and  a  liberal  portion  of  the  night 
to  the  current  amusements  ;  and  the  plain  arithmetic  of  the 
whole  is,  that  they  find  not  a  single  half-hour  for  the  ser- 
vice of  that  Being  whose  goodness  has  given  them  the  en- 
tire twenty-four.  But  suppose,  after  such  a  computation, 
we  stand  up  at  the  bar  of  conscience  and  inquire  by  what 
right  we  involve  ourselves  in  this  bewildering  maze  of  oc- 
cupation— on  what  principle  do  we  multiply  around  us  the 
cares  of  business  and  the  calls  of  pleasure,  and  then,  by 
a  curious  sort  of  reasoning,  make  them  the  excuses  for 
our  impenitence? 

My  hearers,  let  us  not  be  blinded  by  this  delusive  sophis- 
try. We  can  all  husband  time  enough,  if  we  would,  for 
the  concerns  of  religion ;  but  the  secret  matter  of  fact  is, 
that  we  look  upon  them  as  insipid ;  we  have  no  heart  for 
the  undertaking  ;  &nd  we  turn  away,,  not  for  want  of  lei- 
sure, but  for  want  of  relish,  the  moment  the  subject  is  pre- 
sented. When  we  come  to  make  the  calculation,  our  in- 
consistent apology  stares  us  in  the  face.  We  find  so  many 
hours  devoted  to  amusement,  and  so  many  to  the  table,  and 
so  many  to  doing  nothing  ;  and  after  all,  we  have  no  time 
for  these  famished  and  neglected  spirits  within  us,  which 
are  travelling  on  to  the  retributions  of  an  impartial  eter 


EXCUSES    OP    THE  IMPENITENT.  307 

aity.  Well  might  the  dying  Wolsey  regret  that  he  had 
given  to  his  king  the  service  which  he  owed  to  his  God ; 
and  when  we,  too,  are  lying  on  our  death-beds,  or,  at  all 
events,  a  little  beyond  that  period,  we  shall  look  back  with 
anguish  upon  days  and  months  devoted  to  the  world,  which, 
had  they  been  applied  to  another  use,  might  have  rescued 
our  souls  from  the  infliction  of  final  punishment. 

There  is  another  description  of  men  who  evade  the  invi- 
tations of  the  Gospel  by  pronouncing  religion  unfriendly  to 
their  pleasures  and  enjoyments.  If  this  were  indeed  the 
case,  I  would  burn — I  will  not  say  the  Bible,  for  that  not 
merely  offers  us  happiness  but  teaches  us  duty-— but  I  would 
burn  this  parable,  and  with  it  a  part  of  nearly  every  page  ia 
the  volume  which  represents  Cliristianity  under  the  form  of 
a  gladsome  and  rejoicing  festival.  No,  my  hearers,  there 
are  few,  if  any  of  us,  who  have  not  seen  the  hour,  even  in 
our  "wildest  career  of  folly,  when  the  humble,  unobtrusive 
Christian,  with  an  eye  kindling  in  the  confidence  of  his  faith 
and  a  hand  sustaining  the  helplessness  of  poverty  and  mis- 
fortune, and  a  heart  throbbing  high  with  the  hope  of  a  blessed 
immortality — when  such  an  one  we  have  met  upon  the  ^reat 
journey  of  life,  it  has  made  us  secretly  wish  as  we  passed 
him  that  we  were  in  his  situation.  And  such  is  the  onlv 
pain  which  genuine  godliness  ever  gives — the  pain  of  a  deep 
and  a  festering  disquietude  to  the  men  of  the  world,  by  re- 
minding them  of  their  madness  in  squandering  away  the 
treasure  of  eternity. 

I  admit,  indeed,  that  there  is  a  sense  in  which  religion  be- 
comes unfriendly  to  our  enjoyments,  and  it  is  when  our  en- 
joyments are  unfriendly  to  us  and  to  God.  She  will  not  go 
with  us  to  the  gaming-house,  and  give  us  license  to  play  our 
property,  our  characters,  our  families,  and  our  souls  away. 
She  will  not  sit  down  with  us  to  the  table  of  revelry,  and 
smile  at  the  boisterous  excess  of  dissipation  and  the  rapid 


308  SERMON  XIX. 

interchange  of  obscenity  and  profanenesg.  And  there  are 
other  places,  too,  where  she  will  not  attend  us,  or,  if  she  does, 
it  will  be  with  closed  lips  and  a  drooping  head,  till  theassem- 
bly  disperses,  when  her  appearance  is  hailed  with  joy,  not 
because  her  presence  is  wanted,  but  because  it  gives  a  kind 
of  sanction  to  the  presence  of  the  rest.  If  it  be  on  such 
accounts  as  these  that  you  complain  of  Christianity  as  the 
damper  of  your  pleasures,  go  on  complaining.  She  offers 
you  not  a  moment's  compromise.  Pursue  your  own  course. 
Not  a  word  more  need  be  said,  unless  it  be  that  a  day  is 
coming  when  you  may  perhaps  wish,  too  late,  that  you  had 
back  again  the  heavy  price  you  are  now  paying  for  your 
favorite  enjoyments. 

There  is  another  class  of  persons  who  ground  their  ne- 
glect of  religion  upon  the  improprieties  of  professed  Chris- 
tians. How  often  do  we  hear  the  triumphant  remark  go- 
ing the  rounds  of  impenitence — "  These  are  your  boasted 
saints.  These  are  men  who  sit  down  at  the  communion, 
and  yet  are  no  better  than  hundreds  around  them,  who 
make  no  such  noisy  pretensions  to  piety."  Now,  my  hearers, 
I  grant  that  all  you  say  is  true ;  that  there  are  persolos  of 
the  very  stamp  to  which  you  allude.  But  why  do  you  blame 
them  ?  "  Because,"  you  reply,  and  very  justly,  *'  their 
conduct  does  not  comport  with  the  spirit  of  religion." 
This,  then,  is  coming  to  the  very  point  I  wished  to  secure. 
I  have  found  out  that  you  understand  what  true  religion  is, 
so  well  that  you  can  detect  the  smallest  deviation  in  its  pro- 
fessors. 

I  call  upon  you,  therefore,  to  be  Christians,  withotit  those 
failings  which  you  find  in  others.  You  know  what  is  right, 
and  I  tell  you  plainly,  that  if  you  perish,  you  will  perish 
under  the  terrific  condemnation  of  the  servant  in  the  parable, 
who  knew  his  Lord's  will,  and  yet  did  it  not.     Nor  do  I 


EXCUSES  OF   THE    IMPENITENT.  309 

stop  there.  You  have  discovered  that  the  professed  disciples 
of  Christ  are  inconsistent  in  their  deportment.  You  have 
seen  that  the  Church  is  corrupt ;  and  in  the  name  of  the 
Almighty  God,  I  put  upon  you  the  responsibility  of  coming 
forward  and  helping  to  reform  it.  Come  and  pray  for  it. 
Come  and  tell  its  inconstant  and  unworthy  members,  that 
they  are  bringing  reproach  upon  the  cause  which  they  pre- 
tend to  have  espoused.  Come  and  tell  them,  that  their  con- 
duct has  long  kept  you  back  from  the  Saviour,  and  set  be- 
fore them  an  example  of  that  purity,  and  heavenly-minded- 
ness,  and  circumsp'ection,  which  you  so  well  know  to  be 
required  of  a  Christian  in  his  walk  through  life.  This  is 
the  high  and  commanding  purpose  to  which  you  are  solemn- 
ly bound  to  devote  the  knowledge  you  possess  of  what  re- 
ligion ought  to  be  ;  and  I  have  a  right  to  hope,  and  I  do 
hope,  that  God  will  give  no  sleep  to  your  eyes,  nor  slumber 
to  your  eye-lids,  till  you  take  up  your  Cross,  and  make  it 
your  first  and  great  undertaking,  to  bring  about  a  reforma- 
tion in  the  Church  of  Christ. 

There  is,  finally,  another  set  of  apologists  among  the  men 
of  the  world,  who  palliate  their  neglect  by  pleading  their  in- 
ability to  perform  the  duties  of  religion.  We  call  upon  them 
to  begin  the  pursuit  of  experimental  piety  ;  and  they  tell  us, 
if,  indeed,  they  tell  us  anything,  that  they  have  no  disposi- 
tion to  set  about  it.  Again,  we  inquire,  why  they  have  no 
disposition  for  a  business  so  alarmingly  important ;  and  they 
reply,  that  however  desirous  they  may  be  of  an  interest  in 
Christ,  the  work  of  changing  their  hearts  is  completely  be- 
yond their  power,  and,  therefore,  they  can  do  nothing.  As 
if  the  culprit  at  the  bar  of  justice  could  extenuate  his  crime 
by  alleging  that  he  had  no  disposition  to  abstain  from  it. 
As  if  we  can  escape  from  the  charge  of  sinfulness  by  plead- 
ing that  we  are  sinful.  As  if  we  might  ward  ofi*  the  unspar- 
14* 


310  SERMON  XIX. 

ing  curse  of  the  Godhead  in  the  judgment  day,  by  nrging 
the  very  hearts  which  had  rebelled  against  Him  as  our  apol- 
ogy !     But  where,  my  hearers,  is  the  secret  of  all  this  pre- 
tended inability  ?    Have  we  not  a  common  Bible,  a  common 
Saviour,  a  common  offer  of  mercy  ?     Are  we  not  moving 
on,  one  as  much  as  another,  to  the  tribunal  of  Christ  ?    Are 
not  our  souls  clothed  with  the  same  essential  principles  of 
immortality?     Where,  then,  is  the  difference,  except  in  this 
plain  and  simple  point,  that  the  children  of  God  have  done 
what  the  unregenerate  of  their  own  accord  have  left  undone? 
But  allow  your  excuse  to  be  true,  in  sll  its  dimensions  ;  al- 
low it  legitimate  reasoning,  that  because  you  have  no  heart 
to  perform  your  duty,  you  are  therefore  unable  to  perform  it, 
and  because  you  have  put  the  performance  out  of  your 
power,  you  must  therefore  leave  the  transaction  in  the  hands 
of  God.    Does  it  follow,  that  you  have  nothing  to  do  ?    Are 
you  calmly  to  settle  down  in  the  conclusion,  that  you  may 
continue  unconcerned,  adding  sin  to  sin,  and  waiting  with 
indolent  composure  the  interference  of  the  Deity  ?    Suppose 
your  dwellings  were  on  fire,  while  you  were  stretched  help- 
less upon  the  bed  of  disease,  would  you  look  quietly  on  while 
the  conflagration  was  roaring  around  you  ?    or  would  you 
rally  the  most  agonising  efforts  of  nature  to  cry  for  deliver- 
ance?    Suppose  you  were  lying  palsied  and  motionless,  on 
the  brink  of  a  burning  and  bursting  crater,  would  you  take 
your  ease,  as  you  now  do  ?     Would  you  hug,  as  you  now 
do,  the  eager  hopes,  and  the  fascinating  expectancies  of  the 
world,  and  rest  satisfied  in  the  peril  of  your  exposure,  be- 
cause you  could  do  nothing  ?   or  would  you  shriek  for  help, 
and  not  once  only,  nor  twice,  but  again,  and  again,  and 
again,  till  you  found  it  ?     You  see,  then,  upon  what  footing 
your  own  acknowledgments  will  place  you,  in  reference  to 
the  work  of  your  salvation  ;  and,  O,  if  there  should  be,  in 
the  disclosures  of  futurity,  one  sentence  more  dreadful  and 


EXCUSES   OP   THE    IMPENITENT.  311 

more  damning  than  the  rest,  it  must  fall  on  his  head,  whose 
excuse  is  that  he  could  do  nothing  himself,  when  the  only- 
object  of  Jesus  Christ  in  expiring  on  the  Cross  was  to  do 
every  thing  for  him,  if  he  but  wished  it  done,  without  money, 
and  without  price. 

My  hearers,  you  may  think  that  the  apologies  I  have  been 
enumerating  are  too  empty,  too  absurd,  too  outrageous  upon 
decency,  to  influence  a  single  one  in  the  postponement  of 
his  preparations  for  a  future  life.  But  let  me  ask  you  to 
retire  within  the  reach  of  a  truth-telling  conscience,  and  see 
if,  after  all,  you  yourselves  do  not  find  something  about  you 
which  ought  to  awaken  uneasiness  ?  See  if  you  have  not 
lived  months  and  years  in  the  absolute  character  of  unpar- 
doned sinners,  with  apologies,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  of  close 
affinity  with  those  I  have  named  ?  I  do  not  wish  you  to  tell 
me,  in  so  many  words,  but  I  wish  you  seriou»ly  and  solemnly 
to  tell  your  own  souls,  and  to  profit  by  the  information.  I 
wish  you  to  look  back  on  the  chequered  scene  over  which 
you  have  travelled  up  to  this  hour,  and  say  if  there  has  been 
one  solitary  day  when  you  were  prepared  for  the  decisions 
of  the  judgment-seat  ?  Say  if  the  invitations  of  the  Gospel, 
when,  indeed,  you  have  bestowed  any  attention  on  them, 
have  ever  accomplished  a  further  effect  than  to  set  you  all 
with  one  consent  to  making  excuses.  Say  if  you  could  ra- 
tionally hope,  were  the  present  hour  to  be  your  last  hour, 
that  you  have  a  friend  to  stand  by  you  while  you  are  dying, 
and  to  conduct  your  spirit  through  the  solemnities  of  the 
final  day,  and  to  throw  open  for  you  the  gates  of  that  city 
whose  builder  and  whose  maker  is  God.  These  are  ques- 
tions which  all  of  us,  sooner  or  later,  will  pronounce  im- 
portant ;  and  I  have  only  to  add,  that  before  the  heavy  seal 
of  eternity  is  set  upon  our  fate,  they  must  be  unequivocally 
answered.  The  season  of  apologies  is  passing  away.  The 
period  is  approaching,  when  all  the  little  evasions  on  which 


312  SERMON  XIX. 

we  now  rely  will  be  driven  to  the  winds ;  and  when  ths 
same  heart-searching  God,  who  is  now  issuing  the  invita- 
tions of  mercy,  will  thunder  through  the  trembling  ranks  of 
impenitence  the  last  and  irrevocable  sentence  of  an  insulted 
Saviour,  "  None  of  those  men  who  were  bidden  shall  taste 
of  my  supper." 


CHRISTIAN  SELF-EXAMINATION.  313 


SERMON  XX. 

"  But  let  a  man  examine  himself,  and  so  let  him  eat  oithat  bread,  and 
drink  of  that  cup.'' 

1  Corinthians,  xi.,  28. 

The  celebration  of  the  Lord's  Supper,  my  hearers,  is 
among  the  most  important  advantages  of  our  religion.  By 
this,  perhaps,  more  than  by  anyone  thing  besides,  are  we  made 
to  pause  in  our  worldliness,  and  to  feel  as  we  ought  to  feel, 
like  sinners  on  the  road  to  eternity.  The  reason  is,  it  brings 
periodically  round  to  us  the  recollection  of  our  Saviour's 
atonement  for  mankind — of  his  so  wonderful  love  for  them 
as  to  lead  him  on  to  the  appalling  ceremonies  of  crucifixion, 
and  finally  of  his  affectionate  injunction,  "  Do  this  in  re- 
membrance of  me,"  bequeathed  with  his  last  breath  to  a 
sinful  and  perishing  world.  Surely,  if  to  these  things  we 
have  been  insensible  ;  if,  in  the  forgetfulness  of  all  his  suf- 
ferings, we  have  denied  him  his  dying  request,  by  keeping 
away  from  his  table,  surely  our  hearts,  however  hard,  must 
feel,  when  reminded  of  our  ingratitude,  and  especially  so 
in  the  reflection,  that  we  have  lived  from  month  to  month 
upon  his  mercy,  that  he  has  spared  us  a  little  longer,  and  a 
little  longer,  up  to  the  present  hour  ;  and,  after  all,  perhaps, 
we  are  at  this  moment  as  little  prepared  to  sit  down  at  the 
sacramental  board,  as  if  it  were  the  first  and  the  only  in- 
stance of  our  omission.  But  I  will  suppose  that  we  have 
gone  to  his  table.  The  question  comes  immediately  up, 
with  what  feelings  have  we  done  so?  It  may  have  been 
from  fear,  or  from  fashion,  or  from  policy,  or  from  a  thou- 
sand other  motives,  which  give  not  a  particle  of  real  religi- 
ousness to  the  transaction.     We  may  have  thought  to  ef- 


314  SERMON   XX. 

feet  a  compromise  with  Jesus  Christ,  and,  while  we  attend 
his  worship  and  his  sacraments  on  the  Sabbath,  we  are, 
perhaps,  indulging  in  the  vanities  and  follies  of  the  world 
through  the  week.  And  who  does  not  know  that  hundreds 
of  persons  are  seen  at  the  Supper  of  the  Lord,  who  carry- 
along  with  them  in  life  not  a  single  evidence  of  vital  and 
experimental  religion ;  in  fact,  whose  only  preparation  for 
it  consists  in  the  mechanical  process  of  resting  a  few  days, 
from  their  wonted  follies,  and  reading  a  few  serious  books, 
and  saying  over  a  few  prayers,  in  order,  as  they  call  it,  to  be 
ready  for  receiving  the  Communion  ?  In  this  state  of  things, 
when  we  find,  as  find  we  do  all  around  us,  so  much  entire 
neglect,  and  so  much  self-deception,  and  so  much  half-way 
performance,  we  need  not  wonder  that  the  apostle  should 
require  a  man  to  examine  himself,  and  so  to  eat  of  that 
bread  and  drink  of  that  cup.  Our  whole  business,  therefore, 
to-day,  is  self-examination. 

When  we  have  answered,  at  the  bar  of  conscience,  what 
are  our  views  of  sin, — what  are  our  feelings  towards  Jesus 
Christ, — what  are  the  terms  we  keep  with  the  world, — and 
what  are  our  ideas  of  Heaven, — then  may  we  determine 
whether  or  not  we  are  prepared  to  join  the  people  of  God 
in  the  expected  solemnities  of  the  coming  Sabbath. 

What  then  are  our  views  of  sin  ?  The  Bible  affirms,  that 
in  a  state  of  nature  we  have  nothing  about  us  but  guilt, — 
that  not  a  pulsation  of  holiness  beats  through  our  hearts  till 
they  are  completely  renovated.  Now,  all  this  we  may  ad- 
mit  as  a  doctrine  ;  but  the  question  is,  what  do  our  consci- 
ences say  to  it  ?  Do  our  feelings,  of  their  own  accord, 
respond  Yes,  when  we  are  told  that  the  carnal  mind  is  en- 
mity against  God  ?  Have  we  something  within  us  which 
knows  by  experience  the  alarming  extent  of  our  depravity — 
waich  js  perfectly  conscious  that  all  we  can  do  in  the 
work  of  our  salvation,  is  to  cast  ourselves  on  the  Divine 


CHRISTIAN  SELF-EXAMINATION.  315 

sovereignty  alone,  and  lift  up  the  single  cry  for  mercy  ? 
Thus  far,  then,  every  thing  is  right.  But  here  the  inquiry 
comes  in  upon  us,  whether  this  view  of  our  sinfulness  has 
drawn  forth  that  repentance  which  the  Gospel  requires  ? 
I  do  not  ask  whether  it  has  awakened  an  occasional  sensation 
of  remorse,  nor  whether  it  convinces  us  that  we  ought  to  be 
penitent,  nor  whether  it  makes  us  uneasy  about  the  retri- 
butions of  another  world, — but  has  it  produced  that  godly 
sorrow  which  we  should  feol,  just  as  much  and  just  as  spon- 
taneously if  sin  were  never  to  be  punished  ?  Are  we  mourn- 
ing every  day  and  every  hour,  that  our  attainments  in 
grace  are  so  small,  that  we  accomplish  no  more  victory 
over  ourselves,  and  that  our  affections  are  so  languid,  and 
our  examples  so  unworthy  in  the  service  of  our  Master  and 
our  God. 

Again :  What  are  our  feelings  towards  Jesus  Christ  ? 
"  Him,"  says  the  apostle,  "  God  hath  set  forth  as  a  propiti- 
ation, through  faith  in  his  blood,  for  the  remission  of  sins." 
We  see  on  the  threshold,  therefore,  in  what  light  we  must 
look  upon  the  Saviour.  We  must  have  a  certain  kind  of 
faith  in  him  to  begin  with,  or  every  thing  goes  wrong  after- 
wards ;  not  a  faith  that  he  lived  or  that  he  died — not  a 
faith  that  his  doctrines  were  true,  and  his  life  exemplary, 
but  faith  in  hisblood.  And  what  are  we  to  believe  concerning 
his  blood  ?  Why,  we  are  simply  to  take  the  whole  passage 
together,  and  have  faith  in  his  blood  for  the  remission  of 
sins,  because  God  hath  set  him  forth  as  a  propitiation^  But 
we  are  not  to  stop  here.  We  may  believe  precisely  as  we 
ought,  about  the  object  of  the  death  of  Christ,  and  about  the 
way  in  which  men  will  be  saved,  and  all  the  time  we  may 
have  no  prospect  of  being  saved  ourselves.  The  reason  is, 
we  must  love  Christ ;  and  when  I  say  Zore,  I  mean  just  what 
is  always  meant,  when  speaking  of  the  common  intercourse 
of  men.     I  mean  a  firm  principle  of  attachment,  which 


316  SERMON    XX. 

makes  us  delight  to  think  of  him,  and  to  please  him,  and  to 
be  with  him,  and  to  do  as  he  wishes  to  have  us  do  ;  and  this, 
too,  not  at  any  one  time,  but  at  all  times.  I  have  no  re- 
ference to  the  mere  emotions  of  gratitude,  nor  to  any  plea- 
sure we  may  have  in  the  hope  that  he  will  be  our  final 
Saviour,  Such*  exercises  are  by  no  means  the  evidences  of 
piety.  Before  we  look  at  all  towards  them,  we  must  ascer- 
tain whether  we  have  confided  in  Christ,  by  seeking  our 
pardon  and  our  hopes  entirely  from  him,  and  by  giving  up 
our  whole  souls  to  his  service,  and  whether  we  have  any 
thing  of  that  feeling  for  him  on  a  large  scale,  which  the 
warmth  of  our  earthly  attachments  confers  on  a  small  one. 
Again:  What  terms  are  we  keeping  with  Vae world?  All 
of  us  know  that  the  Bible  has  forbidden  us  to  be  conformed 
to  it,  or  to  set  our  affections  upon  it ;  and  that  man  who  is 
not  sensible  from  day  to  day,  of  a  constant  struggle  against 
the  temptations  around  him,  falls  short  of  the  very  first  evi- 
dence of  experimental  religion.  My  hearers,  there  is  a  sort 
of  visible  Christianity  which  walks  along  through  life 
upon  the  boundary  line  that  separates  the  Church  from  the 
world  ;  and  to  this  track  it  always  adheres,  because,  by 
stepping  a  little  on  one  side  it  enjoys  the  varieties  of  life,  and 
by  stepping  a  little  on  the  other  side  it  resumes  a  standing 
among  the  children  of  God.  Of  all  the  forms  of  self-decep- 
tion, this  is  one  of  the  worst — not  that  I  would  dictate  how 
far  any  of  us  may  indulge  in  what  are  usually  styled  ra- 
tional amusements ;  nor  do  I  undertake  to  affirm,  that  we 
commit  a  positive  crime  by  such  indulgencies.  But  this  I 
say,  that  in  the  character  of  a  professor  of  religion,  it  is  a 
trait  which,  if  I  were  lying  on  the  death-bed,  I  should  trem- 
ble to  carry  with  me  to  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ.  No 
such  accommodating  Christianity  is  found  in  the  life  of  our 
Saviour,  nor  of  his  apostles,  nor  of  his  primitive  people. 
They  came  out  from  the  world,  and  were  separate ;  and  there 


CHRISTIAN  SELF-EXAMINATION.  317 

was  something  about  them  as  well  on  a  week-day  as  on  the 
Sabbath,  to  show  that  their  affections  were  fixed  on  a  bet- 
ter inheritance.  Now,  it  is  not  thfe  bare  fact  of  indulging 
in  this  amusement  or  the  other,  that  I  am  alluding  to  ;  but 
when  we  find  out  which  way  ^he  current  of  the  heart  is 
set,  and  when  we  read  the  next  moment  that  he  who  will 
be  the  friend  of  the  world  is  the  enemy  of  God,  it  is  time, 
high  time,  that  we  should  examine  ourselves  before  rushing 
on  the  awful  symbols  of  the  body  and  blood  of  Christ. 

Again  :  What  are  out  ideas  of  Heaven  1  That  we  hope 
for  it,  there  is  no  possible  doubt.  The  worst  man  upon 
earth — the  most  blasphemous  and  abandoned — if  you  were 
to  offer  him  the  Indies  to  swear  on  the  evangelists  of  God, 
that  he  would  never  ask  iiis  Maker  for  salvation,  would  re- 
coil from  the  bargain.  There  is  no  question,  therefore,  that 
all  of  us  look  with  pleasure  to  the  prospect  of  future  happi- 
ness. But,  my  brethren,  the  hope  of  future  happiness  is 
one  thing,  and  the  hope  of  Heaven  is  quite  another  thing. 
We  may  be  gratifieci  by  believing  that  after  death  we  shall 
escape  punishment  and  pain,  butthe  point  is,  whether  the 
heart  spontaneously  pants  for  that  hour,  when  it  shall  be 
free  from  sin,  and  free  from  the  burden  of  itself,  and  free 
from  the  possibility  of  offending  a  kind  and  merciful  God. 
O,  it  is  sweet  for  a  Christian  to  cast  forward  the  eye  of 
faith  to  that  blessed  world,  where  he  will  be  relieved  from 
this  load  of  guilt,  and  made  perfectly  holy,  and  refreshed 
with  new  and  progressive  disclosures  of  the  Saviour's  cha- 
racter, and  the  Saviour's  glory  !  We  need  not  ask,  bre- 
thren, what  ought  to  be  our  views,  or  what  ought  to  be  our 
feelings  in  regard  to  Heaven — but  what  are  they  ?  The 
mere  escape  from  suffering  is  but  a  small  consideration — 
first  of  all,  we  are  to  inquire,  whether  our  spontaneous 
breathings  are  after  holiness — whether  the  rest  which  we 
anticipate  beyond  the  grave  is  precious  to  us,  chiefly  be- 


318  SERMON  XX. 

cause  it  will  remove  our  sinfulness — and  whether  our  great* 
est  solicitude,  both  lor  this  world  and  the  next,  is  that  we 
may  bear  upon  us  the  image  and  the  purity  of  God,  Such 
are  some  of  the  leading  criteria  by  which  a  man  is  to  ex- 
amine himself,  preparatory  to  taking  his  seat  at  the  sacra- 
mental table.  On  the  approaching  Sabbath,  I  will  not  deny 
that  it  would  give  me  the  purest  joy  to  see  you,  one  and 
all,  come  forward  and  join  in  the  solemnities  of  Zion  ;  but 
sooner  may  my  lips  freeze  together,  than  encourage  you  to 
do  so  while  you  know  that  the  work  of  an  experimental 
preparation  isnoWf  as  it  always  has  been,  entirely  unperform- 
ed. So,  then,  it  seems  that  some  of  you  are  not  prepared, 
and  why  not  ?  Perhaps  you  are  not  good  enough — you 
are  too  great  a  sinner.  Yes, — and  you  will  disobey  this 
command  of  Christ ; — this,  the  most  affecting  and  impres- 
sive, because  you  have  already  disobeyed  so  many.  You 
will  hold  on  to  your  sins,  because  you  are  so  great  a  sinner. 
Perhaps  you  have  no  heart  acceptably  to  take  the  commu- 
nion. Yes — and  you  will  justify  the  neglect  of  one  duty 
by  pleading  the  deeper  and  darker  guilt  of  having  neglected 
another.  You  will  keep  within  you,  a  heart  which  deters 
you  from  the  eucharist,  and  which,  by  the  very  same  rule, 
will  shut  you  out  from  the  presence  of  God  and  of  Christ. 
Perhaps  you  have  once  had  a  seat  at  the  Saviour's  table, 
but,  by  long  neglect,  have  become  too  guilty,  or  too  indiffer- 
ent, to  take  it  again.  Yes — and  go  on  a  few  months,  or 
a  few  years  more,  and  in  the  same  way  that  your  sins  have 
banished  you  from  the  communion,  will  they  banish  you 
from  Heaven.  You  are  welcome — you  are  bound  to  come 
now,  even  at  the  eleventh  hour ;  but  remember,  the  twelfth 
hour  will  close  the  scene  in  midnight  forever. 

Men  and  Brethren  :  Call  upon  them  as  we  will — plead 
with  them  as  we  will — there  is  an  alarming  majority  of  this 
congregation,  who  have  no  idea  on  next  Sabbath,  more  than 


CHRISTIAN  SELF-EXAMINATION.  319 

they  ever  had,  of  celebrating  the  death  of  that  Saviour  who 
bled  on  the  Cross  for  their  sins.  To  them — to  each  and 
every  one  of  them,  I  speak.  I  speak  to  all  of  you,  my 
hearers,  and  I  hope  and  pray  that  God  may  give  you  no 
peace,  day  nor  night,  till  you  have  found  out  some  adequate 
excuse  for  neglecting  your  duty,  or  till  you  come  forward 
while  you  may,  and  perform  it.  There  are  some  of  you, 
however,  who  will  not  forget  the  dying  command  of  Christ, 
nor  absent  yourselves  from  the  solemnities  of  his  table. 
Youj  my  Christian  friends,  we  hail  with  joy,  among  the  lit- 
tle band  of  communicants.  To  what  denomination  you  be- 
long is  of  no  importance — we  give  to  all  of  you,  without 
exception,  the  hand  of  a  brotherly  welcome.  The  Lord's 
Supper,  like  that  Heaven  which  it  typifies,  merges  every 
distinction  of  sect  in  the  one  great  and  honorable  name  of 
Christian.  All  we  ask,  is,  that  your  whole  hearts  be  en- 
listed in  the  transaction,  that  they  be  not  free  from  sin,  but 
penitent  for  it — not  perfect  in  holiness,  but  panting  to  be 
so — not  good  enough  to  come,  but  ready  enough  not  to 
stay  away — not  absolutely  confident  of  pardon,  but  trusting 
in  the  mercy  of  Christ  alone  to  dispense  it,  and  cherishing 
the  humble  hope,  that  He  has  done  it  already. 
May  God  add  His  blessing.     Amen. 


320  SERMON   XXI. 


SERMON  XXI. 

"  Herod  the  Tetrarch." 


Matthew,  xiv.,  1. 


•  In  looking  over  the  biographical  sketches  of  the  New 
Testament,  we  cannot  but  mark  the  honest  and  impartial 
accuracy  with  which  they  are  drawn.  Having  for  their 
object  to  keep  up  a  broad  line  of  distinction  between  virtue 
and  vice,  it  appears  natural  that  the  sacred  writers  should 
have  regarded  themselves  as  an  interested  party,  and  be- 
trayed their  sentiments  accordingly.  But  such  is  not  the 
fact.  No  matter  how  fair  the  field  for  eulogy — no  matter 
how  just  the  subject  for  reproach — we  find  them,  in  every  in- 
stance, repressing  their  personal  feelings,  and  adhering  to 
the  fidelity  of  simple  and  unvarnished  narration.  For  an 
example  of  the  remark,  take  the  case  of  Herod,  whose  name 
I  have  read.  Perhaps  few  men  in  any  age  have  been  more 
licentious  or  abandoned  ;  few,  certainly,  can  be  cited,  who 
have  wrung  so  many  tears  of  blood  from  the  Church.  Yet 
knowing  all  this,  having  it  confirmed  by  profane  history, 
the  pen  of  Inspiration  has  merely  detailed  a  statement  of 
facts,  without  indulging  a  single  epithet,  without  drawing  a 
single  inference.  Something  like  a  feeling  of  pity,  it  is 
true,  appears  in  the  account,  but  nothing  of  indignation  or 
censure  ;  not  a  remark,  indeed,  is  dropped,  from  which  we 
can  gather  the  views  of  the  evangelist.  He  leaves  it  to  his 
readers  to  form  their  own  conclusions,  and  hence  it  is,  that 
we,  my  hearers,  may  profit  by  taking  the  materials  which 
the  Bible  affords,  and  collecting  from  them  the  character  of 
a  man  who  figured  with  almost  unparalleled  enormity  in  the 
early  periods  of  the  Church. 


THE  CHARACTER  OP  HEROD.  321 

The  name  of  Herod,  on  the  pages  of  the  New  Testament, 
carries  along  with  it  a  most  terrific  association.  The  father, 
commonly  called  Herod  the  Great,  was  he  who  massacred 
the  children  at  Bethlehem,  and  sought  the  life  of  the  infant 
Saviour.  The  son  it  was  who  inhumanly  murdered  John 
the  Baptist,  and  he  is  intended  by  our  text.  The  nephew, 
Herod  Agrippa,  slew  St.  James,  and  afterwards  imprisoned 
the  venerable  Peter  with  the  same  design,  which,  however, 
was  happily  prevented.  Through  the  whole  family,  there- 
fore, we  discover  a  cruelty  and  savageism,  which  even  in 
those  days  of  terror  mocked  at  a  parallel.  The  proconsu- 
lar, or  rather  the  official  name  of  the  individual  about  whom 
we  are  now  speaking,  was  Herod  Antipas.  At  the  death 
of  his  father,  he  came  into  power,  and  was  appointed  vice- 
gerent of  the  Roman  emperor,  with  the  title  of  King  of 
Galilee.  The  first  we  hear  of  him  in  sacred  Scripture  is  as 
the  seducer,  and  afterwards  the  husband,  of  his  brother's 
wife.  While  living  in  this  incestuous  connexion,  John  the 
Baptist  commenced  his  career,  and  Herod  from  curiosity 
sent  for  him  to  court.  The  preacher  went ;  but  he  went 
not  to  soothe  nor  to  flatter.  He  dared  to  speak  the  truth ; 
and  while  the  royal  sinner  was  surrounded  by  the  imposing 
magnificence  of  empire,  he  reminded  him  of  his  guilt,  and 
called  upon  him  to  break  off  from  his  destructive  course  of 
licentiousness  and  outrage.  To  this  W£is  returned  the  laconic 
answer,  which  office  and  rank  generally,  if  they  have  the 
power,  give  to  truth.  John  was  ordered  to  prison.  The 
step  is  not  at  all  to  be  wondered  at.  How  many  aft  there, 
possessed  of  exalted  stations,  who  do  not  spurn  away  from 
them  every  restraint,  which  an  inferior,  and  especially  a 
preacher,  may  wish  to  impose  1  Let  a  class  of  men  be  ele- 
vated above  the  common  walks  of  life,  by  no  matter  what, — 
wealth,  office,  family ;  and  they  all  at  once  become  enshrouded 
with  a  sort  of  repulsive  dignity,  which  no  remonstrance  can 


322  SERMON  XXI. 

unbend,  and  no  argument  approach.  John  was  imprisoned  ; 
and  if  a  woman  had  had  her  way,  he  would  have  been  led 
to  the  scaffold.  When  the  feebler  sex  settles  down  into 
such  a  debasement,  as  to  dismiss  the  sympathies  and  chari- 
ties which  belong  to  it,  it  goes  to  ten  times  greater  lengths 
than  the  other.  So  in  the  present  case.  The  degraded 
wretch,  who  called  herself  the  wife  of  Herod,  insisted  that 
their  prisoner  should  be  put  to  death.  To  this,  however,  her 
husband,  with  all  his  cruelty,  would  not  consent,  for  one  of 
the  strangest  reasons  in  the  world, — "  because  he  feared  John, 
knowing  that  he  was  a  just  man  and  a  holy."  Strange,  did 
I  say  ?  No,  it  is  not  strange ;  there  is  a  something  in  the 
lofty  purity  of  real  religion  which  is  always  feared,  even  by 
the  most  abandoned.  It  is  precisely  the  principle  which 
made  Felix  tremble  before  Paul,  when  he  heard  him  reason 
of  righteousness,  of  temperance,  and  of  a  judgment  to  come. 
The  image  of  God,  see  it  where  we  will,  is  awfully  grand  and 
impressive ;  and  often,  very  often,  when  the  worldling  is 
pointing  the  finger  of  scorn  at  the  disciples  of  Christ,  a 
secret  awe  is  moving  in  his  heart,  which  compels  him  to  do 
them  reverence.  But  Herod  went  beyond  the  emotion  of 
fear.  He  visited  John  in  his  confinement ;  and,  says  the 
evangelist,  "  heard  him  gladly."  Indeed,  he  seems  to  have 
commended  the  honesty  of  his  preaching,  and  if  one  par- 
ticular subject  had  been  avoided,  the  violation  of  the  mar- 
riage covenant,  he  would  probably  have  felt  towards  him  no 
resentment.  But  you  may  inquire  how  it  happens,  that  men 
of  Herd's  character  can  listen  to  the  alarming  truths  of  the 
Gospel  with  composure  ?  And  yet  it  is  so.  The  ability, 
the  address,  the  elevation  of  the  preacher,  may  awaken  ap- 
plause, even  where  his  exhortations  are  disregarded,  and  his 
principles  denied.  Or  there  may  be  in  the  di;ctrine  itself  a 
something  of  sublimity  which  overawes,  while  the  entire 
groundwork  of  the  plan  of  salvation  by  Christ  is  to  the  Jew 


THE  character' OF  HEROD.  323 

a  stumbling-block,  and  to  the  Greek  foolishness.  And  thus 
we  find,  that  hundreds  will  sit  under  the  announcements  of 
Inspiration  with  the  decency  of  external  respect,  but  the 
moment  the  word  of  God  is  pressed  home  upon  their  own  con- 
sciences— the  moment  they  find  the  declaration  of  the  pro- 
phet thundering  in  their  ears,  "  Thou  art  the  man," — then  it 
is,  that  they  seize  upon  some  gilded  apology,  and  bid  the 
subject  of  religion  farewell.  But  in  Herod's  case,  it  was  not 
all,  that  he  admired  the  preacher.  He  commenced  the  for- 
malities of  a  visible  reformation,  and,  as  we  are  told,  did 
many  things  which  were  required  of  him.  Promising,  in- 
deed,  was  the  prospect  that  such  a  man  should  relinquish 
any  of  his  habits ;  but  Herodias  was  still  retained,  and  thus 
every  hope  of  radical  amendment  was  extinguished.  Not 
all  the  obligations  of  this  world,  nor  all  the  solemnities  of 
another,  could  persuade  him  to  renounce  the  infamous  wo- 
man who  shared  his  throne.  It  was  easy  for  him,  as  it  is 
for  us,  to  surrender  one  sin,  or  another  sin  for  which  no  very 
craving  propensity  called  ;  but  to  crush  at  a  blow  the  mighty 
principle  of  sin  in  the  heart,  is  another  and  a  very  different 
work.  This  is  accomplished  only  by  that  entire  devotedness 
to  God  which*  spontaneously  abandons  every  thing,  however 
trivial,  which  He  has  forbidden,  and  performs  every  thing, 
however  mortifying,  which  He  has  enjoined. 

But  to  return  to  Herod.  If  any  palliation  could  be  of- 
fered for  his  guilt — any  semblance  of  excuse  for  retaining 
his  degraded  queen,  it  must  be  found  in  the  strength  of  that 
passion  which  hurried  him  on  in  his  career.  Well,  indeed, 
has  Inspiration  said  of  an  unprincipled  woman — that  "  Her 
house  is  the  way  to  hell,  going  down  to  the  chambers  of 
death."  What  is  the  sacrifice  which  deluded  man  will 
not  oflfer  at  this  polluted  shrine  ?  Interest,  health,  cha- 
racter, the  most  endearing  ties,  and  the  most  solemn  en- 
gagements ;  all  that  binds  society  together ;  all  that  makes 


324  SERMON    XXI. 

us  respect  ourselves  5  and  all  that  holds  out  to  us  the  hope  of 
final  salvation.  But  even  this  passion,  so  deadly  in  its  visi- 
tations upon  the  heart,  could  not  drive  its  sceptred  victim 
to  the  crime  of  murder,  for  which  his  wretched  wifie  was  so 
anxious.  It  was  reserved  for  her  to  decoy  when  she  could 
not  persuade  him  to  the  perpetration.  And  what  think 
you  was  the  method  by  which  she  executed  her  inhuman 
design?  She  waited  for  the  birth-day  of  her  husband, 
which  he  was  accustomed  to  distinguish  by  a  splendid  cele- 
bration. After  the  courtiers  and  nobles  were  assembled 
and  heated  with  wine,  she  sent  in  her  daughter  to  dance 
before  them.  Herod,  inflamed  with  drink,  was  delighted  at 
her  performance,  and,  in  a  moment  of  rashness,  broke  forth 
into  an  infatuated  oath  that  he  would  give  her  whatever  she 
might  ask,  even  to  the  half  of  his  kingdom.  The  child  re- 
turned to  her  mother  with  the  tidings,  and  by  her  wes  in- 
structed to  ask — not  wealth,  not  power,  not  a  magnificent 
alliance — but  the  execution  of  John  the  Baptist !  Herod 
himself — even  Herod,  was  struck  with  horror.  Gladly 
would  he  have  recalled  his  oath,  but  he  had  not  firmness 
enough  to  reflect  that  the  sin  was  in  making  and  not  in 
breaking  it.  Gladly  would  he  have  revoked  his  pledge,  but 
his  nobility  were  around  him,  and  he  dared  not  encounter 
from  them  the  charge  of  timidity  or  inconstancy.  They 
had  seen  him  on  the  ensanguined  field  of  battle  unmoved  ; 
they  had  fought  beneath  his  eagles  ;  and  now,  that  the  mere 
life  of  an  obscure  preacher  was  at  stake,  could  he  falsify 
his  word,  and  that,  too,  to  a  female  ?  Could  he,  in  face  of 
the  whole  court,  compromit  his  honor  by  so  glaring  an  out- 
rage upon  refined  and  fashionable  life  ?  The  struggle  was 
hard,  but  the  bloodthirsty  character  of  the  gentler  man  pre- 
vailed, as  it  commonly  does,  around  the  table  of  revelry  and 
dissipation.  An  executioner  was  despatched,  and,  before 
the  company  retired  from  the  palace,  the  dripping  head  of 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  HEROD.  325 

the  Baptist  attested  how  well  a  monarch  could  keep  his 
word. 

From  this  period  Herod  seems  to  have  been  a  miserable 
man  ;  not  that  any  thing  like  contrition  was  discovered  in 
his  character,  but  the  recollection  of  his  crime  haunted  him 
wherever  he  went.  He  felt  that  he  had  shed  innocent  blood, 
and,  amidst  all  the  splendors  of  royalty,  conscience  coiled 
around  his  wretched  soul  its  lash  of  a  thousand  scorpions. 
He  fled  to  the  blandishments  of  his  infamous  queen,  but 
they  could  not  soothe  him.  He  resorted,  with  the  true 
spirit  of  conscious  guilt,  to  infidelity,  but  that  gave  him  no 
repose.  Like  the  fallen  angels,  he  "  believed  and  trem- 
bled ;"  so  much  so,  that  when  Jesus  Christ  appeared,  soon 
after  his  venerable  precursor  was  beheaded,  Herod  hearing 
of  his  sanctity,  immediately  supposed  him  to  be  John  the 
Baptist  risen  from  the  dead.  All  his  uneasiness,  however, 
produced  no  reformation.  He  followed  our  Lord's  steps 
like  a  tiger  crouching  for  his  prey.  Determined  to  destroy 
him,  he  left  nothing  undone,  till  at  last  the  Saviour  stood 
before  his  bar  on  trial.  As  might  have  been  expected,  he 
dismissed  at  once  all  the  decencies  of  legal  proceedings, 
and  rushed  on  to  the  long  wished-for  catastrophe.  He  col- 
lected his  men  of  war  around  the  prisoner,  and  arrayed 
him  in  a  gorgeous  robe,  and  set  him  at  nought,  and  mocked 
him,  till  the  closing  scene  of  the  drama  was  finally  ushered 
in,  and  the  heights  of  Calvary  were  steeped  in  the  blood  of 
a  crucified  Messiah. 

Because  sentence  against  a  wicked  work  is  not  speedily 
executed,  therefore  the  hearts  of  the  children  of  men  are 
fully  set  in  them  to  do  evil.  It  was  so  with  Herod. 
But  the  hour  approached  for  vengeance.  The  monarch 
whose  daughter  he  had  divorced  took  the  field  against  him, 
and  after  a  dreadful  battle  he  was  entirely  defeated.  To 
add  to  his  distress,  the  Roman  emperor  drove  him  with  dis- 
15 


326  SERMON    XXI. 

grace  from  his  throne  ;  and,  as  if  Justice  were  yet  unsatis- 
fied, he  was  subsiequently  banished  to  a  secluded  place  in 
Gaul,  where  himself  and  his  abandoned  queen  died  in  exile, 
without  a  tear  to  bedew  their  memories  in  this  world — with- 
out a  hope  to  cheer  them  in  the  expectation  of  another. 
They  live  now  only  on  the  roll  of  infamy,  and  every  page 
of  the  historian,  sacred  or  profane,  blushes  to  bear  the  name 
oi  Herod, 

I  am  not  going  to  insult  you,  my  hearers,  by  inquiring 
if  you  have  characters,  even  remotely  similar,  unless  in  in- 
fidelity,  to  that  I  have  been  describing.  Let  me  rather  ask 
you  to  look  at  the  subject  in  another  light.  You  see  before 
you  one  of  the  enemies  of  the  Church — the  great  cham- 
pion of  skepticism.  You  see  his  end  ;  and  is  it  not  the  end 
on  which  hostility  to  religion  may  always  calculate  1  Where 
is  Herod  ?  Where  is  Nero  ?  Where  is  Domitian  ?  They 
survive  only  in  the  execrations  of  posterity.  And  what, 
all  this  time,  has  become  of  the  Church  ?  Why,  she  has 
gone  on  her  way  rejoicing.  She  has  blown  the  clarion  of 
triumph  from  the  centre  of  the  Roman  empire  to  the  far- 
thest corner  of  the  earth  which  human  search  has  explored. 
The  Gospel  of  Christ  has  pressed  on  in  its  march  of  glory, 
trampling  under  foot  the  altars  of  Heathenism,  and  crum- 
bling the  pagodas  of  Idolatry,  and  shouting  victory  even 
over  the  minarets  of  the  Arabian  prophet.  It  is  true,  op- 
position is  raised  ;  but  it  is  also  true  that  opposition  must 
fall.  The  Church  of  Christ  must  and  will  move  forward, 
for  "  the  Lord  her  God  in  the  midst  of  her  is  mighty." 
Look  at  history  ;  look  at  experience  ;  look  at  the  signs  of 
the  times.  Must  not  the  Church  triumph  1  I  hope  in  God 
there  are  none  who  doubt  it — who  disbelieve  it.  It  is  too  late 
in  the  day  ;  but  if  there  are,  the  armies  of  Christ  will  walk 
over  them  and  leave  them  in  the  dust.  Search  the  annals 
of  skepticisiUi  from  Herod  down  to  us,  and  they  seem  like 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  HEROD.  327 

the  fragments  of  some  mighty  shipwreck.  Cast  your  eyes 
half  that  time  forward,  and  our  modern  skeptics  will  aug- 
ment the  map  of  desolation.  Christ  is  taking  to  himself 
his  great  power.  The  signals  are  out ;  the  trumpet  is 
sounded ;  and  woe,  woe  to  him,  whoever  he  may  be,  that 
throws  not  off  the  panoply  of  resistance  to  so  certain  and 
so  glorious  a  consummation. 


328  SERMON   XXII. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

"Peter,  an  apostle  of  Jesus  Christ." 

1  Peter,  i.,  1. 

It  is  a  very  common,  and,  within  its  proper  application, 
a  very  just  remark,  that  Christianity  changes  the  disposi- 
tion, but  not  the  temper.  The  meaning  is,  that  the  habits 
— the  settled  tendencies — or,  what  is  the  same  thing,  the 
dispositions  of  the  mind,  are  turned  by  the  Gospel  into  a 
new  direction,  while  the  peculiar  excitabilities  of  the  mind 
— its  involuntary  and  unthinking  sallies — or,  in  other  words, 
its  tempers,  will  always  adhere  to  the  individual,  no  matter 
how  deeply  Divine  grace  may  have  made  him  the  subject 
of  moral  renovation.  It  is  on  this  principle,  I  presume, 
that  we  discover  between  the  saints  of  the  New  Testament 
so  plain  a  difference,  at  the  same  time  that  all  of  them  carry 
upon  their  characters  the  impress  of  genuine  piety.  Each 
man's  peculiar  temperament  gives  a  cast  to  his  religion  :  one 
of  warm  and  lively  affections  frequently  appears  precipi- 
tate, and  another  of  more  calm  and  sedate  feelings,  some- 
times wears  the  aspect  of  languor,  inactivity,  and  sloth. 
In  fact,  it  is  in  the  walks  of  Christianity  precisely  as  it  is 
in  the  ordinary  developments  of  life.  The  Creator  has 
made  us  with  different  peculiarities  of  mind,  which  betray 
themselves  upon  our  conduct  wherever  we  go,  and  in  what- 
ever course  of  action  we  engage  ;  and  while  hundreds  may 
be  pressing  forward  to  Heaven  with  equal  certainty  and 
equal  zeal,  they  may  all  the  while  carry  along  with  them, 
each  one  for  himself,  a  sui  generis  of  character,  which 
marks  him  conspicuously  out  from  every  other  individual 
upon  the  road.     In  exemplifying  these  remarks,  I  know  of 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  PETER.        329 

no  instance  more  striking  than  the  life  of  the  apostle  Peter. 
In  looking  over  his  biography,  we  shall  find  on  the  one 
hand  a  constellation  of  the  most  noble  qualities.  Sanguine 
in  his  hopes,  bold  in  his  plans,  generous  in  his  views,  and 
fearless,  not  to  say  impetuous  in  his  movements,  he  wins 
our  unlimited  applause.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  we  see 
these  same  dispositions  leading  him  often  into  difficulty, — 
we  detect  failings  which  piety  can  never  palliate,  and  yet 
so  evidently  do  they  result  from  the  ardent  and  intrepid 
temperament  of  his  mind,  that  Charity  drops  a  tear  over 
the  very  foibles  she  is  compelled  to  reprove. 

Where  this  illustrious  apostle  was  born  I  am  unable  to 
say.  His  place  of  residence  at  the  period  of  his  coming 
upon  the  sacred  pages,  was  Galilee,  where  he  followed  the 
humble  pursuit  of  a  fisherman.  In  the  present  instance, 
therefore,  as  in  most  others,  the  Saviour  chose  the  heralds 
of  his  mercy,  not  from  the  inmates  of  a  court,  who  might 
push  forward  the  triumphs  of  the  Gospel  with  the  arm  of 
power,  nor  from  the  disciples  of  philosophy,  who  might  as- 
cribe the  success  of  his  cause  to  the  talents  embarked  in  it, 
but  from  those  obscurer  classes  of  society  where  "wisdom," 
if  found  at  all,  would  be  found  under  the  most  conclusive 
evidence  of  being  "  not  of  this  world."  The  first  interview 
of  Peter  with  Jesus  Christ  is  worthy  of  notice.  He  had 
lived  a  long  time  in  the  same  neighborhood,  without  the 
least  curiosity  to  see  him,  till  at  last  his  brother,  unexpect- 
edly becoming  a  Christian,  prevailed  upon  Peter  to  accom- 
pany him  in  a  visit  to  the  Saviour.  The  result  was  success- 
ful, and  from  that  moment  we  find  them  both  enlisted, 
heart  and  hand,  under  the  banners  of  Christianity. 

Need  I  tell  you,  my  hearers,  that  this  little  incident  is 
one  of  the  most  affecting  and  impressive  character  ?  You 
see  the  issue  of  a  single  solicitation  from  a  pious  friend. 
And  let  me  ask,  if  no  godly  brother  or  sister,  or  parent, 


330  SERMON  XXII. 

now  perhaps  sleeping  in  the  dust, — let  me  ask,  has 
never  offered,  by  advice,  by  prayers,  by  tears,  to  lead  you 
to  a  Saviour's  Cross?  Has  never  pressed  upon  you 
with  all  the  urgency  of  affection,  the  importance  of  a  pre- 
paration for  eternity,  and  wrung  in  your  ears  the  solemn, 
it  may  now  be  the  forgotten  alarm,  that  there  is  no  peace 
to  the  wicked  ?  But  I  have  said  that  Peter,  from  that  mo- 
ment, became  an  earnest  and  thorough-going  Christian. 
Receiving  shortly  afterwards  the  appointment  of  an  apostle, 
he  walked  abroad  among  the  children  of  superstition  and 
sin,  proclaiming  the  messages  of  the  Gospel,  No  hostility 
could  check  his  ardor — no  obstacle  arrest  his  progress. 
On  several  occasions,  when  the  other  disciples  began  to 
yield  to  a  feeling  of  discouragement,  Peter  stood  forth  and 
rallied  their  sinking  hopes.  Once,  especially,  the  concourse 
of  followers  whom  Christ  had  collected  around  him  entirely 
withdrew,  and  the  apostles  themselves  had  secretly  formed 
the  same  design.  But  this  illustrious  man,  unmoved  by  the 
terrible  array  of  threatened  persecution,  remained  by  his  de- 
serted Master,  "  Lord,"  said  he,  with  his  characteristic 
warmth,  "  to  whom  shall  we  go  ?  Thou  hast  the  words  of 
eternal  life,  and  we  believe — we  are  sure  that  thou  art  the 
Christ,  the  Son  of  the  living  God."  The  same  bold  and  decided 
fidelity  to  the  Saviour  embodied  itself  in  all  his  conduct : 
and  if  at  this  period  he  had  a  fault,  other  than  the  common 
frailties  of  nature,  it  was,  that  impatient  at  the  meek  and 
gradual  advance  of  Christianity,  he  wished  to  push  it  on 
with  a  rapidity  proportioned  to  its  real  claims,  and  a  vio- 
lence corresponding  with  that  employed  in  opposing  it.  He 
seemed  desirous,  few  and  feeble  as  were  the  littte  band  of 
Christians,  to  lead  them  at  once  against  their  bloodthirsty 
enemies.  And  if  the  Messiah  had  resorted  to  the  sword  in 
establishing  his  religion,  there  can  be  little  doubt  but  Peter 
would  have  kept  the  field  at  every  hazard,  till  he  was  a 


THE    CHARACTER    OF    PETER.  331 

corpse  or  a  conqueror.  By  this  warm  though  blinded  at- 
tachment to  Jesus  Christ,  the  apostle  became  unusually  en- 
deared to  him,  so  much  so  as  to  draw  from  his  lips  that  cele- 
brated, perhaps  difiicujt,  expression  in  Matthew,  "  Thou  art 
Peter,  and  on  this  rock  I  will  build  my  Church."  Of  this 
passage  there  is  no  time  to  decide,  at  present,  the  precise 
import.  You  all  know  that  it  is  by  many  supposed  to  have 
given  to  Peter  a  supremacy  over  the  other  apostles,  which» 
we  are  told,  has  descended,  of  right,  to  his  legitimate  suc- 
cessors. That  such  is  not  the  meaning  of  the  words,  I 
should  be  wanting  to  my  subject  not  to  offer  you  a  few 
brief  reasons.  In  the  first  place,  Peter  never  claimed  and 
never  exercised  the  least  authority.  In  the  second,  St. 
Paul  declared  himself  nothing  inferior  to  the  very  chiefest 
apostles.  In  the  third,  no  one  ever  pretended  to  be  Peter's 
successor  till  nearly  three  hundred  years  after  his  death.  In 
the  fourth,  St.  Peter  might  very  justly  be  called  the  rock 
on  which  the  Church  was  built,  for  he  was  the  man  who 
established  the  first  Christian  Church  among  the  Jews,  and 
the  first  Christian  Church  amoncr  the  Gentiles.  In  the  last 
place,  Christ  says  to  Peter,  "  I  will  give  thee  the  keys  of 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  whatever  thou  shalt  loose  shall 
be  loosed,  and  whatever  thou  shalt  bind  shall  be  bound.'* 
But  a  little  farther  along,  he  says  the  very  same  words  to 
all  the  apostles  together ;  so  that  whether  the  expression 
mean  little  or  much,  it  has  nothing  in  it  peculiar  to  Peter. 
But,  waiving  this  question,  we  have  now  arrived  at  a  pe- 
riod in  the  apostle's  life,  which,  if  his  own  tears,  or  the  tears 
of  the  Church,  could  recal  it,  would  never  have  remained 
on  the  annals  of  Christianity.  Were  it  possible  for  repent- 
ance to  annihilate  the  deed  over  which  it  mourns,  the  Scrip- 
ture writers  would  have  passed  in  silence  the  melancholy 
scene  which  is  now  coming  up — and  surely,  it  furnishes  a 
distinguished  evidence  of  their  impartiality,  that  they  have 


332  SERMON    XXII. 

not  done  so,  and  thus  sheltered  the  name  of  a  Christian 
apostle  from  a  most  foul  and  disgraceful  imputation.  Can 
you  believe,  my  hearers,  that  St.  Peter — the  lofty,  the  un- 
daunted leader  of  his  brethren — could  have  sunk  so  low  as  to 
deny  his  Master  ?  Alas,  it  was  even  so  ;  and  God  sometimes 
permits  the  most  high  and  towering  spirits  to  fall  from  their 
virtuous  elevation,  as  if  to  teach  us  that  human  nature,  even 
when  decked  with  its  brightest  accomplishments,  zs  human, 
and  is  sinful.  The  story,  as  we  have  it  in  the  New  Testa- 
ment, is  told  with  all  the  sirapHcity  and  all  the  ingenuous- 
ness of  truth.  When  Jesus  Christ  celebrated  the  last  Pass- 
over, Peter,  with  the  other  apostles,  was  present.  Our  Lord, 
after  conversing  with  him  for  some  minutes,  expressed  a 
fear,  that  his  fidelity  might  give  way  in  the  hour  of  trial. 
Peter,  in  the  warmth  of  his  feelings,  declared,  that  he  stood 
ready  to  lay  down  his  life  for  his  Master.  The  Saviour 
proceeded  to  say,  that  before  the  next  morning,  he  would 
not  only  prove  unfaithful,  but  would  disavow  all  acquaint- 
ance with  him.  The  same  tremendous  prediction  was  re- 
peated as  they  went  out  together  to  the  garden  of  Gethse- 
mane  ;  but  Peter,  hurt  at  the  suspicion,  and  confident  of 
his  own  sincerity,  renewed  his  declaration,  that  he  would 
meet  death  in  any  form,  rather  than  deny  his  Master.  For 
some  time  he  kept  his  word.  When  a  band  of  soldiers  ap- 
proached to  seize  Christ,  Peter  drew  his  sword  :  attacked 
them  single-handed,  with  his  accustomed  impetuosity  ;  and 
had  he  been  permitted,  we  may  safely  presume,  he  would 
have  repelled  them,  or  perished  in  the  attempt.  But  when 
Jesus  Christ  stopped  the  shedding  of  blood — when  he  con- 
sented to  be  taken  bound,  and  led  away  a  prisoner — 
when  he  quietly  submitted  to  all  this,  Peter,  with  the  rest, 
forsook  him  and  fled.  I  have  often,  my  hearers,  reflected 
upon  his  conduct,  with  the  wish  to  ascertain  the  real  mo- 
tive from  which  it  sprung.    It  could  not  have  been  fear — for 


THE  CHARACTER  OP  PETER.         333 

he  knew  it  not ;  he  was  even  too  fearless.  It  could  not  have 
been  want  of  affection — for  his  whole  previous  deportment 
disproved  the  charge  and  be.-ides,  even  after  deserting 
Christ,  he  followed  him  afar  off,  watching  with  trembling 
solicitude  the  result.  No; — in  my  opinion,  the  great  se- 
cret was,  that  Peter  had  courage  enough,  but  no  fortitude. 
He  could  meet  danger,  but  he  could  not  bear  pain,  indigni- 
ty and  disgrace.  When  the  Saviour  ordered  him  to  lay 
aside  his  sword,  he  probably  thought  that  his  services  were 
of  no  further  use,  and  that  to  remain  where  he  was,  was 
only  insuring  his  own  destruction  without  aiding  his  Mas- 
ter. Hence  he  followed  at  a  distance,  to  the  place  of  trial, 
where,  actuated  by  the  same  selfish  feelings,  and  discouraged 
by  the  mild  and  unresisting  submission  of  Christ,  he,  three 
times  in  succession,  denied  that  he  knew  Him.  The  third 
time,  however,  as  the  words  were  passing  his  lips,  the  Lord 
Jesus  turned,  and  looked  upon  him.  Peter  remembered  his 
prediction — he  sunk  to  the  earth — the  whole  enormity  of 
his  guilt  rushed  in  an  instant  upon  him,  and  in  the  impres- 
sive language  of  Inspiration,  "  He  went  out  and  wept  bit- 
terly. "And  yet,"  you  will  perhaps  exclaim,  "this  man 
who  denied  his  Lord,  is  called  a  saint,  while  hundreds,  who 
testify  at  any  rate  a  decent  respect  for  the  Saviour,  are 
pronounced  impenitent  and  unbelieving."  Well,  my  hear, 
ers,  would  you  like  to  know  the  difference  between  the 
cases?  It  is  this  :  Piety  may  sometimes  be  wrong,  but 
impenitence  is  never  right,  A  child  of  God  may  woefully 
fall :  but  a  child  of  the  world  has  nothing  from  which  to 
fall.  Or,  if  you  wish  the  sentiments  in  another  garb :  a 
temperate  man  may  become  intoxicated,  but  an  habitual 
drunkard  is  never  sober.  Here  then  is  Peter,  on  whose 
character  rests  the  stigma  of  one  fearful  and  unpalliated 
sin  ;  but  remember,  that  the  rest  of  his  whole  life,  both  be- 
fore aud  after  the  catastrophe,  was  devoted  to  the  unwea- 
16* 


334  SERMON    XXII. 

ried  service  of  God.    In  an  hour  of  temptation  and  trial,  he 
fell ;  but  when  his  Lord  looked  upon  him,  "  He  went  out 
and  wept  bitterly."     He  shed  over   the  turpitude  of  his 
crime  the  tears  of  an  abasing  repentance — of  an  unsoftened 
and  heart-rending  remorse  ;  and  what  was  the  consequence  ? 
His  contrition  restored  him  to  the  favor  he  had  lost.   When 
the  Redeemer  had  risen  from  the  dead,  Peter  was  the  first 
apostle  to  whom  he  appeared,  bringing  with  him  a  supply 
of  much  needed  consolation  ;  and  the  apostle  himself,  as  if 
to  atone  more  deeply  for  his  guilt,  reviewed  the  Gospel  of 
St.  Mark,  and  inserted  in  it  the  history  of  his  own  crime, 
in  terms  of  a  more  glowing  reproach  than  we  find  in  any 
other  evangelist. 

I  shall  defer  to  another  Sabbath,  the  conclusion  of  the 
subject  which  has  now  been  begun.  From  this  point,  the 
life  of  the  venerable  Peter  is  no  longer  chequered  with  fail- 
ings and  virtues.  It  becomes  one  steady  course  of  active 
Christianity,  shining  like  the  path  of  the  just,  more  and 
more,  to  the  perfect  day.  There  is  a  remark,  however, 
arising  from  what  has  been  already  said,  which,  to  a  re- 
flecting spectator  of  life,  will  not  be  unimportant.  Almost 
every  man  we  meet  has  some  pecuHar  and  unfortunate  pro- 
pensity of  which  temptation  is  sure  to  take  advantage. 
There  is  in  our  breasts  some  predominating  passion  ;  it  is 
stated  in  Scripture  our  besetting  sin.  The  world,  if  they 
perceive  it,  call  it  our  weak  side  ;  but  whatever  be  the 
name,  it  holds  over  us  a  powerful  dominion.  Through  this 
channel,  it  seems  to  have  been  that  St.  Peter's  apostacy 
was  brought  on.  His  ruling  foible  was  an  impetuous  and 
presumptuous  reliance  upon  himself,  and  when  he  found 
that  the  Saviour  needed  none  of  his  aid,  he  lost  all  confi- 
dence in  the  success  of  the  cause,  and  denied  his  mild  and 
unassuming  Master.  So  will  it  be  with  us,  if  we  throw  the 
reins  upon  the  neck  of  our  favorite  propensities.     Not  only 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  PETER.        335 

shall  we  incur  the  reproach  of  the  world,  who  detect  our 
failings,  but  we  shall  be  exposed  like  Peter,  to  do,  in  a  sin- 
gle hour  of  rashness,  what  years  of  penitence  cannot  undo 
nor  recal.  It  becomes  us,  therefore,  in  placing  guards 
around  ourselves  to  secure  us  from  sin,  to  discover,  first  of 
all,  whether  we  have  not  some  unhappy  liabilities  of  cha- 
racter, which,  like  weak  points  in  the  intrenchments  of  a 
citadel,  may  admit  the  incursions  of  an  enemy,  while  the 
rudeness  of  a  general  assault  would  prove  entirely  useless 
and  unavailing. 


336  SERMON  XXIII. 


SERMON  XXIIl. 

*' Peter,  an  apostle  of  Jesus  Christ." 

1  Peter,  i.,  1. 

About  the  distinguished  apostle  whose  name  is  mentioned 
in  our  text,  we  have  already,  on  the  last  Sabbath,  offered 
some  reflections.  We  left  him  overwhelmed  with  repent- 
ance and  remorse  for  the  crime  of  denying  his  Lord  ;  and 
it  is  pleasing  to  know,  that  his  professions  at  that  awful 
moment  were  followed  up  by  those  genuine  and  lasting  fruits 
which  vital  piety  never  fails  to  produce.  From  this  period, 
he  is  Peter  again,  in  all  the  fidelity  of  his  attachments,  and 
all  the  ardor  of  his  devotedness  to  Christ.  Shortly  subse- 
quent to  our  Saviour's  resurrection,  the  apostle  was  employed 
on  that  celebrated  occasion  usually  styled  "  the  Day  of  Pen- 
tecost." His  preaching  made  a  deep  impression  on  the 
minds  of  the  audience  ;  three  thousand  persons  are  said  to 
have  been  affected,  not  to  excitement  alone — not  alone  to 
thesympathiesof  animal  feeling, — but  to  an  evangelical  re- 
novation, and  a  saving  knowledge  of  Christ.  It  was,  my 
hearers,  what  is  called  in  modern  language  a  revival  of  re- 
ligion— a  season,  we  are  often  told,  of  enthusiasm  ;  and  un- 
doubtedly, enthusiasm  and  excess  do  sometimes  mingle  with 
it,  but  the  result,  upon  the  whole,  is  always  salutary  and  glo- 
rious. Why  need  we  suppose  an  unusual  anxiety  for  the 
concerns  of  the  soul  to  be  engrafted  upon  enthusiasm  alone  ? 
If  the  Bible  be  true  at  all,  it  is  most  solemnly  true  ;  and  for 
sinners,  impenitent  and  uuawakened  sinners,  to  be  roused 
never  so  suddenly  to  a  sense  of  their  danger,  implies  no 
more  enthusiasm  than  it  would  for  a  man  upon  the  brink  of 
a  breaking  precipice  to  cry  for  help ;  or  for  another,  while 


THE  CHARACTER  OF  PETER.        337 

his  dwelling  was  wrapt  in  flames,  to  call  for  a  rescue  from 
the  devouring  element. 

But  to  return.  Shortly  after  the  day  of  Pentecost,  St. 
Peter  appears  again  in  a  most  interesting  light.  In  a  laud- 
able conformity  to  national  usage,  he  had  gone  with  the 
apostle  John  to  the  temple  at  the  hour  of  prayer.  While 
there,  a  poor  man,  who  had  been  a  cripple  from  his  birtli, 
solicited  his  relief.  The  answer  which  Peter  returned  is  a 
fair  specimen  of  his  noble  character,  *'  Silver  and  gold  have 
I  none,"  said  he,  "  but  such  as  I  have  give  I  thee — in  the 
name  of  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  rise  up  and  walk."  This  reply 
suggests  to  us  two  important  thoughts  :  the  first,  that  the 
heralds  of  Christ  are  to  relieve  the  temporal,  as  well  as  the 
spiritual  wants  of  mankind  ;  and  the  second,  that  while  our 
Saviour  invariably  wrought  miracles  by  his  own  powers,  the 
apostles  in  every  instance  did  it  in  his  name,  and  by  his  au- 
thority.  The  cripple,  however,  was  cured  ;  and  such  was 
the  publicity  cf  the  case,  that  crowds  of  people  flocked  to. 
gether  to  witness  the  phenomenon.  But  Peter  sought  no 
applause.  As  soon  as  a  large  assembly  had  convened,  he 
opened  upon  them  one  of  his  most  powerful  exhortations. 
He  told  them  the  truth,  like  a  faithful  minister  of  Jesus 
Christ.  He  informed  them  that,  say  what  they  might,  they 
had  but  one  alternative — either  to  repent,  and  believe  on  the 
crucified  Son  of  God,  or  to  be  lost  forever.  Such  doctiines, 
you  can  easily  presume,  gained  him  no  favor  ;  and  after 
being  arraigned  before  the  Sanhedrim,  he  was  thrown  into 
prison.  Here  he  was  visited,  threatened,  flattered,  to  in- 
duce in  him  the  surrender  of  his  principles.  But  seduction, 
on  the  one  hand,  and  menace  on  the  other,  answered  no 
purpose.  He  remained  inflexible,  till  at  last  the  govern- 
ment, tired  of  their  constant  attrition  upon  a  rock,  dismissed 
him,  and  the  apostle  walked  once  more  forth  with  fresh 
vigor  to  the  high  and  holy  work  of  publishing  through  the 


338  SERMON    XXIIl. 

empire  of  Heathenism  the  news  of  life  and  immortality 
brought  to  light  in  the  Gospel.  For  a  long  time  he  was  left 
unmolested  ;  and  allow  me,  my  hearers,  to  believe  that  the 
disciples  of  Christ  would  never  have  been  persecuted,  but 
for  the  prodigious  power  and  success  attending  their  preach- 
ing. Why  should  they  have  been  ?  The  Roman  govern- 
ment tolerated  every  other  religion,  except  the  Christian, 
On  such  subjects,  they  were  not  merely  indulgent ;  they 
were  indifferent.  The  Egyptian,  the  Persian,  the  Greek, 
the  Jew,  all  might  go  to  the  very  capitol  of  the  empire,  and 
preach  and  proselyte  if  they  could,  and  nothing  like  hostili- 
ty  was  thought  of.  But  when  Christianity  appeared,  ridi- 
culed as  it  was,  it  swept  all  before  it ;  and  if  any  thing  can 
goad  impetuous  man  to  a  perfect  frenzy,  it  is  to  see  a  com- 
petitor, whom  he  has  despised,  taking  the  ground  of  an  un- 
bending and  successful  opposition  to  him.  So  it  was  with 
the  enemies  of  Christ :  so  it  was  with  the  enemies  of  Peter. 
The  moment  his  preaching  began  to  have  effect,  he  was 
again  seized  by  the  Sanhedrim,  and  a  proposition  was  laid 
before  them  to  put  him  to  death.  It  did  not  pass,  indeed, 
but  it  came  within  a  very  little  of  passing ;  for  we  are  told 
that  Peter  was  scourged  before  they  released  him  from  con- 
finement. This  is  an  interesting  point,  and  I  beg  you  to 
look  at  it  with  attention.  You  find  in  the  New  Testament 
a  frequent  mention  of  scourging  :  our  Saviour  was  scourged 
when  Pilate  wished  to  let  him  go ;  and  Peter,  in  the  present 
case,  suffered  the  same  fate ;  and  what,  think  you,  was  the 
reason  ?  Why,  when  a  Christian  was  arraigned,  the  court 
dared  not  acquit  him,  for  fear  of  the  infatuated  and  shouting 
populace ;  and  the  method  of  proceeding  was,  to  scourge  the 
helpless  prisoner  till  his  body  was  covered  with  bruises  and 
blood,  and  then  to  send  him  out  into  the  crowd,  to  melt  them 
into  pity  by  this  mangled  and  dripping  spectacle  of  horror  ! 
All  this,  and  more  than  this,  St,  Peter  suffered  unmoved. 


THE  CHARACTER  OP  PETER.         339 

He  preached  on  :  he  prayed  on.  Firm  and  collected  he 
stood  by  the  cause  of  his  Master,  like — what  can  I  say  more, 
than  like  himself,  recovered  from  his  former  dereliction. 

But  Herod  still  lived,  and  therefore  there  was  every  thing 
to  fear.  The  tyrant  began  his  desolating  career  by  putting 
St.  James  to  death ;  and  almost  before  his  blood  was  cold, 
he  seized  Peter,  and  condemned  him  to  the  same  fate.  No 
wonder,  that  in  so  awful  an  hour  the  Church  should  cry 
mightily  unto  God.  The  little  band  of  Christians  assembled, 
and  laid  their  case,  not  before  the  court  of  Herod,  but  the 
throne  of  the  Almighty.  And  they  were  heard  :  God  was 
in  Heaven,  and  Peter  was  released.  The  very  night  before 
the  appointed  day  of  execution,  he  passed  unhurt  through 
the  line  of  sentinels ;  and  what  think  you  ?  He  went  to 
the  house  of  a  friend  for  concealment,  where  he  found  a 
prayer-meeting  convened,  and  imploring  God  to  save  him 
from  the  scaffold  which  he  had  just  escaped.  O,  let  a  man 
make  a  mock  of  prayer,  and  he  is  not  a  blasphemer  merely, 
but  a  fool !  He  is  below  the  contempt  of  this  world,  and 
beyond  the  hope  of  another.  Surely,  if  there  be  a  God,  He 
must  love  holiness ;  and  if  so.  He  must  hear  the  prayer  of 
holiness ;  or,  I  might  rather  say,  that  the  whole  design  of 
His  government  evidently  is  to  give  to  holiness  His  protec- 
tion and  His  favor.  And  since  He  employs  different  means 
in  accomplishing  His  ends,  why  should  not  prayer  be  one 
of  the  means  by  which  He  brings  about  the  rescue  and  the 
triumph  of  holiness,  sometimes  in  this  world,  and  always  in 
the  next.  I  challenge  the  pride  of  reason,  or  the  evasions 
of  philosophy,  to  dispute  the  doctrine. 

Thus,  in  the  present  instance,  the  great  Head  of  the 
Church  had  a  work  for  Peter  to  do,  and  done  it  was.  The 
apostle  toiled  through  the  obstacles  and  discouragements 
around  him  till  his  three-score  years  and  ten  were  measured, 
when  he  was  translated  to  a  better  and  brighter  world.     The 


340  SERMON    XXIII. 

inhuman  Nero  seized  the  venerable  old  man,  and  in  spite  of 
his  age,  his  infirmities,  his  innocence,  condemned  him  to 
death.  He  was  led  out,  pinioned  to  the  ground,  and  even 
the  multitude  who  had  assembled  to  insult  him  were  moved 
to  pity  as  he  passed  along.  Just  before  the  execution  com- 
menced, the  decrepid  and  tottering  prisoner  requested  that 
he  might  be  nailed  to  the  stake  with  his  head  downwards, 
for  having  once  denied  his  Master.  The  request  was  granted, 
and  in  this  manner  St.  Peter  expired. 

Now,  my  hearers,  I  beg  you,  first  of  all,  in  view  of  the 
subject  we  have  discussed,  to  remark  how  important  the 
exertions  of  a  single  man  may  become  in  the  machinery  of 
human  events.  The  wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness 
with  God  ;  and  the  instrumentalities  which  He  employs  in 
bringing  about  the  most  splendid  results  are  frequently  such 
as  we  should  distrust,  if  not  despise.  For  example  :  The 
wife  of  an  obscure  English  shop-keeper  had  a  son,  who,  at 
his  birth,  was  apparently  dead,  and  they  prepared  to  bury 
him.  One  of  the  servants,  however,  discovered  signs  of 
life,  and  he  was  raised  to  manhood.  That  was  the  cele- 
brated Doddridge.  John  Newton,  too,  once  picked  up  a 
wandering  child  in  the  streets  of  Loncfon,  and  gave  him  his 
education.  That  was  the  far-famed  and  immortal  Bucha- 
nan. In  the  present  case,  also,  St.  Peter  was  an  obscure 
fisherman,  born  in  indigence  and  bred  in  seclusion,  till,  by 
an  accidental  visit  to  Christ,  with  his  brother,  he  became 
the  rock  on  which  the  Church  was  built. 

I  wish  you  to  remark  again,  that  the  foibles  and  infirmi- 
ties of  human  nature  appear  sometimes  to  be  engrafted  on 
its  very  virtues.  The  apostle  Peter  stood  unmoved  by  the 
side  of  his  Master  whenever  danger  was  to  be  met,  or  hos- 
tility resisted  ;  but  the  moment  he  was  checked  in  his  im- 
petuous career,  and  commanded  tamely  to  submit,  he  lost 
his  confidence  in  the  cause  of  Christ.     Why  ?     Because  he 


THE  CHARACTER  OP  PETER.         341 

relied  too  presumptuously  upon  himself.  He  had  no  idea 
of  success  in  an  enterprise  without  the  use  of  the  sword.  I 
will  not  say  he  had  too  much  courage,  but  he  trusted  too 
much  in  it,  and  the  consequence  was  that  the  mild  and  un- 
resisting submission  of  the  Saviour  unarmed  and  appalled 
him,  when  the  most  terrible  array  of  arms  would  only  have 
led  him  on  to  a  more  noble  intrepidity. 

We  have  another  observation  suggested  by  our  subject, 
which  is,  that  natural  talents,  when  consecrated  by  piety, 
are  turned  to  as  much  account  in  religion  as  in  any  thing 
else.  Look  into  the  New  Testament.  St.  Paul  was  a  man 
of  liberal  education  and  fine  classical  learning.  They  were 
not  useless  when  he  became  a  Christian.  On  the  contrary, 
he  made  them  tell  on  every  page  of  his  writings  and  every 
labor  of  his  life.  Peter,  though  not  educated,  was  gifted 
with  a  mind  uncommonly  vigorous  and  efficient  ;  and,  ac- 
cordingly, the  whole  drift  of  his  epistles  is  to  press  upon  us 
the  urgencies  of  the  Gospel  in  their  most  strong  and  strik- 
ing light.  Each  of  the  apostles,  in  short,  possessed  his  own 
peculiar  qualifications,  conferred  not  by  inspiration,  but  by 
nature,  which  the  Holy  Spirit  subsidized  into  the  service  of 
Christianity.  Although,  therefore,  God  can  give  success  to 
the  feeblest  instruments  of  His  will,  we  see  him  sometimes 
making  use  of  those  endowments  by  which  one  man  is  dis- 
tinguished from  another,  as  if  human  wisdom  were  abso- 
lutely necessary  to  help  forward  the  plans  of  His  govern- 
ment. 

But  a  consideration  still  more  impressive,  taken  from  our 
subject,  is  the  renovating  influence  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ.  What  was  it  which  sent  the  obscure  and  unedu- 
cated Peter  into  the  ministry,  with  a  heart  yearning  for  the 
salvation  of  souls  ?  It  was  the  Gospel.  What  sustained 
him  under  trials  the  most  severe  and  obstacles  the  most  dis- 
couraging, during  a  sixty  years'  apostleship  ?     It  was  the 


342  SERMON  XXIII. 

Gospel.  What  led  him  in  triumph  to  the  stake,  and  raised 
from  his  quivering  lips,  in  the  moment  of  exchanging  worlds, 
the  shout  of  victory  ?  My  hearers,  it  vi^as  the  Gospel  of  Je- 
sus. It  is  foolish — it  is  stupid,  to  account  for  these  things 
on  any  other  principle.  And  is  there  nothing  in  such  a 
Gospel  which  you  will  need,  to  hold  you  up  in  the  afflictions 
of  life,  and  go  with  you  to  the  solemnities  of  a  dying  hour  ? 
Will  you  continue  to  put  away  from  you  the  overtures  of 
that  Saviour  who  has  bled  upon  the  cross  for  your  sins,  and 
offered  you  a  hope  in  his  blood,  without  money  and  without 
price?  I  point  you  to  the  world,  with  all  its  allurements, 
and  follies,  and  pleasures  ;  I  lead  you  to  the  enticements  of 
wealth — the  splendors  of  fashion — the  revelries  of  mirth  ; 
but  look  one  moment  to  the  bar  of  God  ;  cast  one  glance 
forward  to  the  judgment-seat,  and  then  listen  to  the  solemn 
question  which  the  venerable  Peter  has  left  for  each  of  us 
to  answer  :  "  Seeing  that  all  these  things  shall  be  dissolved, 
what  manner  of  persons  ought  ye  to  be  in  all  holy  conver- 
sation and  godliness."     Amen. 


THE    CHARACTER    OF   PAUL.  343 


SERMON  XXIV. 

"  And  Paul  said,  I  would  to  God  that  not  only  thou,  but  also  all  that 
hear  me  this  day,  were  both  almost  and  altogether  such  as  I  am,  except 
these  bonds." 

Acts,  xxvi.,  29. 

Such  was  the  language  of  a  man  loaded  with  chains, 
covered  with  reproach,  and  on  trial  for  his  life  before  a  Ro- 
man court  of  justice.  After  concluding  a  most  able  and 
eloquent  defence,  one  of  the  judges,  subdued  by  the  power 
of  argument,  exclaimed  to  him,  "  Almost  thou  persuadest 
me  to  be  a  Christian."  The  answer  of  the  apostle  you 
have  just  heard.  It  is  replete  with  the  greatness  and  phi- 
lanthropy of  his  mind.  If  sublimity  be  ever  found  in  mo- 
rals, it  surely  is  when  we  see  an  individual  emaciated  by 
long  imprisonment,  and  bending  under  the  weight  of  his  fet- 
ters ;  when  we  hear  him,  unmoved  by  the  appalhng  prepa- 
rations around  him,  reply  to  the  hesitating  '"'•almost"  of  his 
judge — "I  wish,  indeed,  you  were  a  Christian.  Would  to 
God  that  all  of  you  were  such  as  I  am,  except  these  bonds 
— that  you  enjoyed  the  hopes  and  consolations  of  Christi- 
anity, without  any  of  the  sufferings  to  which,  by  my  at- 
tachment to  it,  I  am  myself  subjected."  Where,  my  hearers, 
was  a  sentiment  ever  uttered  which  breathed  a  feeling  of 
purer  or  of  loftier  magnanimity  ? 

Before  inquiring,  as  we  soon  shall,  what  it  is  to  be  such 
as  St.  Paul  was,  or,  in  other  words,  what  was  really  the 
character  of  the  man,  it  is  proper  to  glance  at  some  of  the 
leading  events  of  his  life.  He  was  born,  as  he  tells  us 
himself,  in  Tarsus,  a  sea-port  of  the  Mediterranean.  His 
parents  were  rich,  respectable,  and,  in  the  Jewish  way, 


344  SERMON  XXIV. 

strictly  religious.  After  acquiring  a  knowledge  of  Latin 
and  Greek  literature  in  his  native  place,  he  was  sent  to  Je- 
rusalem, where  he  entered  a  school  of  great  celebrity,  to  com- 
plete his  education  by  prosecuting  the  study  of  the  law. 
His  proficiency  here  was  so  great,  although  under  the  dis- 
advantage of  feeble  health,  that  he  was  elected,  even  while 
a  student,  to  a  seat  in  the  Sanhedrim.  From  this  period, 
actuated,  no  doubt,  by  the  most  sincere  motives,  he  drew 
the  sword  against  Christianity,  and  seemed  to  think  it  his 
public  duty  to  throw  away  the  scabbard.  All  the  ingenuity 
of  his  mind,  all  the  zeal  of  his  feelings,  and  all  the  energy 
of  his  character,  were  rallied  to  a  single  point — the  extermi- 
nation of  the  Christians.  He  hunted  them  like  a  famished 
tiger  ;  he  forced  them  from  their  concealment,  and  drove 
them  to  prison.  He  burst  open  their  dwellings  in  the  dead 
of  night ;  he  stretched  them  on  the  instruments  of  torture  ; 
he  presided  in  triumph  and  exultation  over  the  distressing 
ceremonies  of  their  martyrdom.  It  was  while  engaged  in 
one  of  these  projects  of  blood  that  he  suddenly  halted  in  his 
course,  and,  to  the  astonishment  of  all  who  knew  him,  be- 
came a  Christian. 

The  account  which  he  gives  us  of  his  conversion — that  it 
resulted  from  being  struck  down  by  a  sudden  light  from 
Heaven,  while  travelling — is  certainly  a  strange  one,  and  not 
to  be  credited,  except  by  admitting  J;he  fact  to  have  been 
miraculous.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  what  motive  could 
St.  Paul  have  had  for  getting  up  such  a  story,  if  it  were  not 
true  ?  We  cannot  suppose  it  a  piece  of  imposture,  for  that 
would  be  making  him  act  against  his  interest,  against  his 
principles,  and  against  all  the  feelings  of  human  nature. 
Nor  can  we  suppose  him  to  have  been  deceived  in  the  affair. 
Who  was  there  to  deceive  him  ?  His  associates  would  not 
have  done  it,  because  they  wished  to  retain  him  among 


THE    CHARACTER  OP    PAUL.  345 

themselves ;  and  the  Christian  party  could  not  have  done 
it,  because  it  was  a  long  time  afterwards  before  they  would 
even  believe  his  story ;  and  besides,  how  could  his  change 
originate  from  those  with  whom  he  had  had  no  previous  in- 
tercourse, and  who,  had  they  known  him  never  so  well,  had 
no  possible  means  of  producing  such  a  deception.  But, 
waiving  this  point,  one  thing  is  certain — that,  from  the  pe- 
riod of  his  journey  to  Damascus,  St.  Paul  was  a  totally 
different  man.  He  entered  heart  and  hand  on  the  work  of 
helping  forward  that  religion  which,  till  then,  he  had  been 
so  eager  to  crush.  He  renounced  all  his  former  expecta- 
tions, and  became  one  of  the  most  active  and.  humble  fol- 
lowers of  Christ. 

From  the  twenty-fourth  year  of  his  age  he  maintained  a 
steady,  unbroken,  and  vigorous  attachment  to  the  service  of 
his  crucified  Master.  His  system  of  life  was  completely 
changed.  Weeks,  months,  and  years,  he  devoted  unre- 
servedly to  the  employment  of  extending  the  empire  of 
Christianity.  He  travelled  from  one  end  of  the  world  to 
the  other  ;  opposition  did  not  intimidate — obstacles  did  not 
retard  him.  But  one  object  appeared  to  engross  all  his 
thoughts — the  kingdom  of  Christ.  To  promote  this,  every 
earthly  consideration  under  his  control  was  made  subservi- 
ent. Wealth,  honor,  office,  the  patronage  of  friends,  health, 
and,  finally,  life  itself.  -  He  was  beheaded  by  Nero,  on  the 
charge  of  having  converted  one  of  his  debauched  favorites 
to  Christianity. 

Now,  what  I  wish  is,  after  this  imperfect  sketch  of  the 
apostle's  life,  to  call  your  attention  to  his  character.  And, 
in  the  first  place,  he  was  a  man  of  talents  and  education. 
It  is  impossible  to  read  his  writings  with  candor,  or  even 
with  care,  without  discovering  a  correct,  profound,  and  com- 
prehensive mind.     It  is  true,  he  was  under  the  guidance  of 


346  SERMON  XXIV. 

inspiration,  but  while  this  shielded  him  from  error,  it  left 
him,  as  it  left  every  other  inspired  person,  with  his  own  pe- 
culiarities of  style  and  of  thought. 

Hence  we  find  St.  Paul's  course  of  reasoning  different 
from  that  of  any  other  New  Testament  writer.  He  is 
more  nervous,  more  forcible  ;  reasoning  seems  to  have  been 
more  his  object.  There  is  something  in  all  his  epistles 
which  show  us  what  his  education  had  been;  a  purity  of 
language,  and  a  correctness  of  conception  which  the  slight- 
est glance  may  discover  to  have  been  entirely  his  own. 
In  many  parts,  too,  he  is  highly  eloquent,  particularly  where 
he  was  called  to  defend  himself  in  public.  Nothing  but  his 
talents  could  have  produced  the  effects  which  followed  his 
addresses,  for  he  was  a  man  of  very  ordinary  appearance, 
and  had  a  hesitancy  of  speech,  besides  which  he  always  be- 
gan with  the  popular  prejudice  against  him.  "  Much  learn- 
ing," said  one  of  his  judges,  "  doth  make  thee  mad." 
Much  learning  the  apostle  did  indeed  possess  ;  but  it  was  a 
very  different  man  who  had  the  madness.  Another  trait  in 
St.  Paul's  character  is,  that  he  was  a  gentleman.  I  do  not 
mean  that  he  could  swear  a  genteel  oath,  or  that  he  could 
say  a  great  many  things  which  he  did  not  feel,  or  that  he 
kept  a  set  of  weapons  for  certain  honorable  occasions.  I 
mean,  that  his  deportment  to  all  classes  of  society  was  be- 
coming and  dignified,  that  he  treated  his  superiors  with  re- 
spect, and  his  inferiors  with  kindness,  and  his  equals  with 
sincerity,  frankness,  and  friendship, — and  this  it  is  to  be  a 
gentleman.  Through  his  whole  life,  after  his  conversion, 
we  cannot  find  a  single  act  which  the  rules  of  genuine  po- 
liteness would  condemn,  except  that  once  he  addressed  the 
high  priest  without  giving  him  his  titles .  but  he  tells  us  he 
did  not  know  the  high  priest,  as  he  was  not  in  his  robes ; 
and  immediately  on  being  informed,  gave  him  his  customary 
titles.     It  is  often  interesting  to  see  how  the  apostle,  in  his 


THE    CHARACTER    OF    PAUL.  347 

intercourse  with  individuals — especially  the  magistrates — 
could  have  told  them  the  truth  so  plainly,  and  pressed  it  so 
directly  on  their  consciences,  without  being,  in  some  sense, 
disrespectful.  But  not  an  instance  can  be  named,  what- 
ever be  his  plainness,  or  his  pungency,  in  which  he  devi- 
ates from  the  strictest  laws  of  decorum.  One  of  his  own 
precepts  to  all  the  followers  of  Christ,  is  to  he  courteous; 
and  certainly,  if  any  other  authority  were  needed,  they  may 
plead  the  uniform  tenor  of  his  example. 

Again  :  St.  Paul's  character  was  distinguished  by  an  un- 
common share  of  energy  and  vigor.  I  mean  here  the  very 
thing  which  some  others  would  probably  call  enthusiasm. 
The  fact  is,  there  are  certain  qualities  of  mind  which 
go  by  one  name  in  religion  ;  and,  in  any  other  pursuit* 
the  same  qualities  go  by  a  very  different  name.  A  man, 
in  getting  rich,  may  endure  labor,  exposure,  fatigue,  and 
cross  the  ocean  on  a  plank,  if  possible, — and  this  is  enter- 
prise ;  or  he  may  be  thorough  in  ail  his  business,  and  prompt 
and  decided  in  his  opinions,  and  move  forward  in  his  own 
path,  regardless  of  opposition, — and  this  is  energy.  But 
the  moment  he  begins  to  do  any  thing  iB»  earnest  in  reli- 
gion— the  moment  he  seems  to  regard  the  salvation  of  the 
soul  as  a  matter  of  pressing  importance — the  moment  he 
takes  his  ground  as  a  Christian,  and  refuses  to  move  from 
it, — then  it  is  enthusiasm.  Let  me  ask,  if  St.  Paul  had  done 
for  the  Roman  empire  what  he  did  for  Christianity,  would 
not  his  name  have  lived  to  this  day  in  columns  of  marble  ? 
Or  even  if,  for  any  object  of  personal  ambition,  he  had  de- 
veloped his  astonishing  powers  of  action,  should  we  not 
have  put  him  down  on  the  list  of  unparallelled  efficiency  and 
vigor  1  What,  then,  is  the  secret  charm  which  blots  from 
the  reputation  of  the  Christian  those  virtues  which  adorn 
the  reputation  of  the  man ']  Take  the  map, — trace  the 
route  of  his  travels — count  the  churches  he  formed,  and  the 


348  SERMON  XXIV. 

converts  he  made — compute  the  arithmetic  of  what  this  one 
debilitated  aad  unpatronised  individual  accomplished,  and 
then  say,  whatever  you  may  think  of  the  nature  of  his  un- 
dertaking, if  he  did  not  bring  to  bear  upon  it  some  of  the 
most  resistless  energy  that  ever  was  evinced  in  human  ex- 
ertion. 

But  the  principal  characteristic  of  St.  Paul,  and  one  con- 
templated more  than  any  other  by  the  text,  is,  that  he  was 
a  serious,  thorough  Christian.  Before  his  conversion,  he 
appears  to  have  been  a  moderate  man  of  the  world,  unex- 
ceptionably  moral,  and  punctual  in  all  the  external  duties  of 
religion,  but  ignorant  of  himself  and  of  his  God.  His 
talents  rendered  him  self-confident — his  connexions  in  life 
made  him  proud — and  his  integrity  and  honorable  feel- 
ings gave  him  an  unsuspicious  reliance  on  his  own  good 
works.  But  afterwards,  how  changed !  What  were  his 
sentiments?  "I  am  the  chief  of  sinners,"  "the  least  of 
all  saints," — "  I  am  polluted  and  vile," — "  O,  wretched 
man  that  I  am,  who  shall  deliver  me  from  this  body  of 
death  !"  What  were  his  feelings  ?  "  To  me  to  live  is 
Christ," — "  What  things  were  gain  to  me,  those  I  counted 
loss  for  him  ;  yea,  doubtless,  and  I  count  all  things  as 
loss  for  the  excellency  of  the  knowledge  of  Christ  Jesus, 
my  Lord."  What  was  his  life  ?  It  was  a  life  of  prayer,  and 
of  piety  :  it  was  a  constant  scene  of  communion  with  his  Sa- 
viour. In  his  closet,  and  on  his  knees,  he  wrestled  with  the 
Angel  of  the  Covenant :  he  poured  out  his  heart  unto  God, 
and  unbosomed  before  Him  all  his  sorrows,  and  confessed  and 
deplored  his  sins.  In  the  world  he  breathed  the  spirit  which 
he  caught  from  retirement.  It  animated  all  his  intercourse 
with  mankind.  It  prompted  that  activity  of  Christian  be- 
nevolence for  which  thousands  are  rejoicing  now  in  Heaven, 
and  thousands  are  grateful  on  earth.  And  is  this  the  cele- 
brated  Saul   of  Tarsus — the   high-minded   Pharisee — the 


THE    CHARACTER  OF    PAUL.  349 

student  of  Gamaliel — the  member  of  the  Sanhedrim, — that 
has  learned  to  take  and  to  keep  his  place  in  the  dust  and  at 
the  feet  of  Christ  ? 

Ah,  my  brethren,  if  we  would  ever  possess  the  spirit  which 
he  possessed,  or  the  Heaven  he  now  inhabits,  we,  too,  must 
learn  to  sit  down  in  the  dust  at  the  feet  of  the  Saviour. 
The  wisdom  of  this  world  is  foolishness  with  God,  and  the 
fashion  of  this  world  passeth  away.  We  may  bring  to  the 
Cross  of  Calvary  the  talents  and  the  accomplishments  which 
grace  us  in  the  intercourse  of  life,  but  we  must  surrender 
our  whole  hearts  to  the  direction  of  Christ,  if  we  would 
have  him  call  us  his.  We  must  be  Christians  in  earnest, 
or  we  are  no  Christians  at  all.  Divested  of  every  relic  of 
self-righteousness,  and  abandoning  all  our  sins,  without  re- 
serve, we  must  come  to  the  same  common  fountain,  where, 
and  where  alone,  we  can  wash,  and  be  clean.  We  must 
live  by  faith,  and  by  devout  and  earnest  prayer.  We  must 
escape  from  our  captivity  to  the  opinions  of  the  world,  from 
our  love  of  its  pleasures,  and  our  fear  of  its  ridicule  and  its 
frowns,  and  commence  a  course  of  serious,  personal,  and 
experimental  religion.  In  this  way,  and  only  in  this  way, 
shall  we  put  ourselves  on  the  road  to  Heaven.  The  spirit 
which  humbled  St.  Paul  must  humble  us  ;  and  the  spirit 
which  warmed  his  heart  must  warm  ours ;  and  the  same 
mercy  which  saved  him — which  whispers  peace  to  the  sobs 
of  a  sincere  and  lasting  repentance, — the  same  mercy  must 
save  us,  if  indeed  we  are  saved  at  all.  "  Would  to  God," 
said  the  apostle,  "that  you  were  both  almost  and  altogether 
such  as  I  am,  except  these  bonds." 

Why  is  it,  my  hearers,  for  the  fact  is  undoubted,  that  pri- 
mitive Christians  were  so  much  more  eminent  for  piety  than 
those  of  modern  times  ?  We  find  in  the  text,  and  throughout 
the  Bible,  that  then  a  profession  of  Christianity  was  frequently 
attended  with  chains,  imprisonment,  and  death.  Yet,  cer- 
16 


350  SERMON  XXIV* 

tain  it  is,  that  the  duty  was  discharged  more  promptly,  and 
followed  up  by  more  holiness  of  life,  than  has  ever  been 
known  since.  To  us  the  name  of  Christian  brings  no  dan- 
ger— no  disgrace.  To  the  exposures,  the  scourgings,  the 
confinements,  the  martyrdom,  which  St.  Paul  suffered,  we 
are  not  exposed.  In  one  respect,  at  least,  his  wish  to  the 
Roman  judges  is  fulfilled  to  ourselves  :  we  are  not  "  loaded 
with  his  honds.^^  But,  except  his  bonds,  leave  them  out 
of  the  question,  and  permit  me  to  ask,  if  you  have  no 
anxiety  to  be  almost  and  altogether  such  as  he  was  1 — - 
to  share  the  consolations  which  cheered  and  animated 
him — to  have  a  good  hope,  through  grace,  of  salvation 
— to  expend  your  lives  in  the  service  of  Jesus  Christ — and, 
finally,  to  lie  down  in  the  dust  with  the  assurance  of 
a  blessed  immortality  beyond  it  1  Where  is  the  man  who 
would  not  willingly  lay  off,  I  care  not  what  character  he 
may  now  sustain,  for  the  honor  of  being  as  active,  as  warm- 
hearted, and  as  useful  a  Christian,  as  was  St.  Paul  ?  Espe- 
cially where  is  he,  who,  in  the  agonies  of  a  dying  hour, 
would  not  like  to  breathe  the  triumphant  language  of  the 
apostle,  "I  have  fought  a  good  fight.  1  have  finished  my 
course.  I  have  kept  the  faith.  Henceforth,  there  is  laid 
up  for  me  a  crown  of  righteousness,  which  the  Lord,  the 
righteous  Judge,  will  give  me  in  that  day." 


ON  THE    RESURRECTION.  351 


SERMON  XXV. 

"  Knowing  that  Christ  being  raised  from  the  dead,  dieth  no  more." 

Romans^  vi.,  9. 

You  are  probably  aware,  my  hearers,  that  this  particular 
Sabbath  of  the  year  is  kept  by  many  as  tije  anniversary 
of  our  Saviour's  resurrection.  From  what  quarter,  the  obli- 
gation, or  even  the  expediency,  of  this  festival  is  derived, 
some  of  us,  perhaps,  may  think  it  hard  to  discover — certain, 
however,  we  are,  that  the  event  which  is  meant  to  be  com- 
memorated, is  one  of  the  very  last  importance,  both  as  an 
evidence  and  as  a  doctrine  of  our  religion.  To-day  then, 
chiefly  because  the  celebration  of  other  churches  calls  the 
subject  to  mind,  we  shall  examine  the  matter  of  fact  laid 
down  by  the  apostle  in  our  text,  "  That  Jesus  Christ  was 
actually  raised  from  the  dead.^^ 

Before  we  commence  the  discussion,  it  may  be  proper  to 
understand  what  use  we  are  to  make  of  the  New  Testament 
as  we  go  along.  To  appeal  to  it  for  testimony,  would  be  to 
beg  the  question — to  throw  it  entirely  away  from  us,  would 
be  unfair,  for  every  candid  man  will  admit  that  it  claims 
our  credit  as  much  as  any  other  history,  when  speaking 
merely  of  plain  events  which  occurred  at  the  time  it  was 
written.  Let  us,  therefore,  place  the  New  Testament  on  a 
footing  with  Josephus,  or  Plutarch,  or  PHny.  In  discuss- 
ing the  question  of  a  miracle,  it  shall  not  be  admitted  ;  but 
there  certainly  is  no  reason  to  doubt— indeed,  I  know  not 
that  it  ever  has  been  doubted,  that  such  a  personage  as 
Christ  once  lived,  and  that  he  was  executed ;  and  that  the 
men,  called  apostles,  wrote  his  biography  ;  and  that  they 
recorded  many  events  which  did  really  happen,  and  were 


352  SERMON  XXV. 

never  denied  ;  and  that  they  asserted,  whether  truly  or  naif 
that  Jesus  Christ  had  risen  from  the  dead.  Upon  such 
topics,  I  presume,  no  skepticism  will  deny  the  authority  of 
the  New  Testament,  nor,  indeed,  of  any  other  decent  and 
sober  history  of  those  times ;  for  the  point  is  simply  this, 
that  the  apostles  declared,  while  they  were  alive,  that  the 
resurrection  actually  did  take  place. 

After  settling  these  preliminaries,  I  lay  down  the  simple 
position,  that  the  New  Testament  writers,  who  have  told  U8 
that  Christ  was  raised  from  the  dead,  must  either  have  been 
deceived  themselves,  or  that  they  must  have  deceived  others, 
or  that  they  must  have  spoken  the  truth.  We  inquire, 
then,  in  the  first  place, — Could  they  possibly  have  been  de- 
ceived themselves  ?  When  Christ  was  executed — as  all  admit 
he  was — something,  no  matter  what,  was  done  with  the 
body.  The  third  day  after  his  death,  his  disciples  openly  re- 
ported the  story  of  the  resurrection.  This  we  know  with" 
out  consulting  the  New  Testament.  The  Jews  themselves 
confessed,  that  the  story  was  spread  at  that  time^  because  at 
that  time  they  contradicted  it.  Now,  if  a  rumor  was  circu- 
lated that  Christ  had  risen,  why  did  not  his  enemies  pro- 
duce the  body  ?  On  the  contrary,  they  did  not  pretend  to 
produce  it.  They  did  not  pretend  to  possess  it.  But  what 
did  they  say  to  counteract  the  report  ?  Why,  that  the  dis- 
ciples had  stolen  the  body.  Be  it  so.  Suppose,  for  the  pre- 
sent, the  disciples  did  steal  it ;  all  I  am  now  proving  is, 
that  they  were  not  deceived  themselves,  and  certainly  they 
could  not  have  been,  if  they  had  deliberately  stolen  the 
body ;  that  would  be  deceiving  others ;  but  it  makes  it  im- 
possible that  they  could  have  been  themselves  deceived. 

Again :  Within  a  short  time  after  this  pretended  resur- 
rection, the  disciples  spread  another  report,  that  Christ  had 
appeared  to  them.  And  what  then  ?  Their  imaginations 
were  probably  warm,  and  their  passions  excited,  and  here 


ON   THE     RESURRECTION.  353 

they  might  easily  have  been  deceived.  But  listen  to  this 
report,  my  brethren,  in  detail,  from  their  own  lips.  They 
declared,  that  they  saw  him,  not  only  separately,  but  when 
several  were  together — not  only  at  a  great  distance  from 
them,  but  as  near  as  possible — not  once  only,  but  at  eight  dif- 
ferent times,  by  day  as  well  as  by  night — that  they  touched 
him,  ate  with  him,  conversed  with  him,  and  examined  his 
person,  for  fear  of  mistake;  and  who  did  all  this?  Why, 
not  a  few  scattered  enthusiasts,  but  multitudes.  At  one 
time,  no  less  than  five  hundred  individuals.  Such  was  the 
report.  We  may,  perhaps,  conceive,  that  the  whole  pre- 
tension was  a  fraud,  practised  for  mercenary  or  selfish  pur- 
poses ;  and  I  do  not  at  present  say,  that  it  was  not  a  fraud ; 
the  point  I  wish  to  establish  is,  that  the  men  themselves 
were  not  deceived.  It  is  entirely  impossible  to  suppose, 
that  five  h  indred  persons,  or  even  fifty  persons,  standing 
together,  should  all  at  once  imagine  the  appearance,  the 
conversation,  the  every  thing  of  a  dead  acquaintance. 
That  they  might  agree  to  publish  a  falsehood  of  that  nature 
is  not  now  denied  ;  but,  certainly,  they  could  not  have  been 
deceived. 

Again :  All  the  strong  points  upon  which  the  truth  of 
the  resurrection  depends  were  matters  of  fact.  Now,  I 
can  easily  suppose,  the  early  followers  of  Christ  to  have 
been  deceived  in  their  opinions.  They  might  have  thought 
him  a  Saviour,  and,  under  this  impression,  might  have  gone 
fearless  to  the  stake,  or  the  scaffold,  and  all  the  time  they 
might  have  been  in  an  error.  But  on  a  question  of  fact, 
the  chance  of  being  deceived  is  almost  nothing  ;  and  hence, 
we  see  the  weight  of  an  honest  man's  oath  in  courts  of  jus- 
tice, and,  particularly  where  several  unite  in  the  same  testi- 
mony, the  evidence  is  irresistible.  Very  much  of  this  sort 
was  the  case  of  the  primitive  witnesses  of  Christianity. 
They  had  for  the  most  part  been  acquainted  with  Christ  in 


354  SERMON  XXV. 

his  life-time — they  had  seen  him  executed — they  had  found 
that  the  body  was  unaccountably  missing  from  the  sepul- 
chre— and  in  no  fewer  than  eight  separate  instances,  had 
they  seen  him  afterwards  ;  and  they  come  forward  and 
unanimously  testify  to  the  same  thing.  They  might  have 
spoken  falsely.  They  might  have  wished  to  blindfold  oth- 
ers by  a  common  perjury  :  but  one  thing  is  almost  demon- 
strably certain,  that  they  could  not  have  been  self  deceived. 
We  should  cut  up  every  principle  of  evidence  by  the  roots 
to  suppose  it.  In  a  long  series  of  matters  of  fact,  it  is  in- 
conceivable that  any  ten  men — I  had  almost  said  any  one 
man — should  be  radically  mistaken.  Let  us,  therefore,  in- 
quire what  has  been  proved.  It  is  this,  that  the  account  of 
the  resurrection  is  not  the  offspring  of  a  deluded  enthusi- 
asm— that  it  is  either  true,  or  that  the  New  Testament 
writers  knew  that  it  was  not  true  when  they  gave  it  circu- 
lation. 

This  last  supposition  is  now  to  be  examined.  It  con- 
stitutes the  second  head  of  discourse,  viz :  whether  the 
apostles  could  possibly  have  deceived  others,  even  had 
they  wished  it.  There  is,  indeed,  a  strong  presumption  that 
they  did  not  wish  it — that  they  were  in  the  main  good  and 
honest  men  ;  and  no  one  who  reads  their  history,  will  sus- 
pect them  to  have  been  other  than  this  ;  but  let  us  suppose 
them  to  have  been  bad — -to  have  been  ready  for  the  grossest 
imposture  and  villany, — still,  I  say,  they  could  not  possibly 
have  accomplished  their  object.  Among  other  inducements 
for  the  opinion,  their  situation  in  life  would  have  opposed  an 
insurmountable  obstacle.  It  is  granted  on  all  hands,  that 
they  were  men  of  obscurity  and  indigence.  They  carried 
nothing  about  them  imposing  ;  nothing  like  power,  elo- 
quence, or  splendor  ;  collected  confessedly  from  the  lower 
classes  of  society,  they  had  no  one  appendage  calculated 
to  push  forward  their  attempt. 


ON   THE    RESURRECTION.  356 

Is  it  likcl}" — is  \*:  corceivablo,  that  such  men,  arraigned 
and  cross-examiued  before  the  most  skilful  courts  of  the 
Augustan  age,  should  have  hit  upon  so  refined  a  system  of 
imposture,  as  to  win  over  a  part  of  their  judges  and  silence 
the  rest  ?  Would  not  a  detection  have  somewhere  leaked 
out,  when  all  the  ingenuity  and  all  the  power  of  a  great 
Roman  province  were  put  in  motion  to  obtain  it  ?  Would 
these  illiterate  individuals  have  published  a  false  account  of 
the  resurrection,  when  it  gained  them  nothing — no  fame, 
no  riches,  no  office,  no  glory  ;  when  it  exposed  them  to 
every  thing  painful  in  suffering,  and  mortifying  in  contempt? 
Surely  bad  men,  however  abandoned,  do  not  act  without 
motive.  They  do  not  court  the  rack,  the  wheel,  or  the 
gibbet,  without  any  earthly  end  to  be  answered  by  it.  But 
here  are  hundreds  who  proclaim  a  story  bottomed  on  the 
most  palpable  perjury  ;  who  persist  in  it  at  the  sacrifice  of 
all  that  is  dear  ;  who  devote  their  whole  lives  to  the  propa- 
gation of  a  falsehood  which  does  them  no  good  ;  and  finally 
expire  under  the  hands  of  the  executioner,  with  their  last 
breath  sending  that  very  falsehood  up  before  them  to  the 
tribunal  of  the  Omnipotent  God  !  Where  is  the  man,  with 
the  least  glimmering  of  his  senses  left  him,  who  can  for  a 
moment  hesitate  over  such  a  supposition  as  this  ? 

Again  :  The  disciples,  three  days  after  the  death  of 
Christ,  reported  the  story  of  his  resurrection.  Before  he 
died,  he  had  predicted  some  such  thing,  and  therefore  a 
strong  guard  of  soldiers  had  been  stationed  around  his  tomb. 
But  in  spite  of  guards  and  every  other  precaution,  the  body 
was  missing  on  the  third  day.  Now,  my  hearers,  1  do  not 
get  this  information  from  the  New  Testament.  You  need 
not  believe  a  word  of  the  New  Testament  on  the  subject. 
The  Jews  themselves  admitted  that  the  body  was  not  to  be 
found.  When,  therefore,  the  disciples  declared  that  Christ 
had  risen,  why  did  not  some  one  produce  the  body  to  con- 


356  SERMON    XXV. 

tradict  the  report  ?  Because  it  was  missing.  And  how 
came  it  missing  ?  ^^  hy,  according  to  the  oath  of  the  guard, 
the  disciples  had  stolen  it  away  while  they  slept.  But  is  it 
conceivable  that  a  whole  company  of  Roman  soldiers,  at  a 
time  of  so  much  excitement,  and  in  defiance  of  the  penalty 
of  death,  should  all  at  once  have  been  asleep  on  their  posts? 
And  if  they  were  asleep,  how  came  they  to  know  that  the 
disciples  had  stolen  the  body  away  1  Again,  therefore,  we 
ask,  why  the  body  was  not  produced,  to  contradict  the  story 
of  its  resurrection  ?  Had  this  been  done,  the  whole  thing 
would  have  been  put  to  rest.  Had  the  body  been  exhibited, 
the  apostles  could  not  have  deceived  men  wilh  the  preten- 
sion that  it  had  risen.  Either  it  was  stolen,  which  we  can- 
not  conceive  possible,  or  it  was  raised,  as  they  said  ;  for 
otherwise  they  could  no  more  have  convinced  the  people  of 
the  resurrection,  than  they  could  that  there  was  no  sun  in 
the  heavens  at  mid- day.  I  repeat,  therefore,  that  if  the 
body  of  Christ  had  not  unaccountably  disappeared,  it  would 
have  been  an  absolute  impossibility  for  the  apostles  to  de- 
ceive, as,  on  skeptical  principles,  they  must  have  deceived, 
the  people  around  them. 

Again :  Suppose,  my  hearers,  an  assemblage  of  five  to 
six  hundred  men,  collected  from  every  class  of  society,  and 
all,  in  the  first  place,  Jews.  They  publish  to  the  world  in 
detail  an  account  of  the  reputed  resurrection  of  an  executed 
criminal.  They  have  no  possible  object  to  promote  by  pro- 
claiming, but  every  thing  to  gain  by  withholding,  the  story. 
They  testify,  not  about  probabilities,  or  distant  events,  or 
events  related  by  others,  but  about  real  facts,  which  they 
saw  with  their  own  eyes.  They  are  summoned  before  the 
most  accomplished  judges  of  the  age — Jews,  and  Heathen 
philosophers,  and  rabbis.  They  depose  the  same  thing  in 
every  case,  so  much  that  not  an  instance  of  deviation  can 
be  detected  in  the  whole  of  their  examinations.    They  come 


ON   THE    RESURRECTION.  357 

forward,  not  in  a  place  remote  from  the  occurrences,  but  at 
Jerusalem,  in  the  synagogues,  in  the  pretorium.  They  give 
in  their  testimony,  not  years  afterwards,  but  three  days  af- 
terwards, while  the  very  storm  of  persecution,  which  had 
crushed  Christ  himself,  was  lowering,  ready  to  burst  upon 
his  friends.  They  are  tried  separately,  and  together  ;  and 
most  of  them  are  led  to  the  gallows  or  the  cross,  without  re- 
tracting a  single  word  of  their  evidence.  Suppose,  I  say,  a 
case  like  this,  and  if  you  can  torture  it  into  a  collusion  of 
impostors — into  a  combination  of  perjury  and  fraud,  exam- 
ined by  another  combination  of  idiocy  and  senselessness,  I 
can  only  tell  you,  that,  in  my  opinion,  you  will  believe  in  a 
miracle  a  thousand  times  more  mysterious  than  the  miracle 
of  the  resurrection. 

I  have  thus  endeavored  to  establish  the  credibility  of  that 
great  doctrine,  upon  which  every  thing  like  rational  Chris- 
tianity will  be  found  to  hinge.  Allow  me,  my  hearers, 
merely  to  remind  you  again,  that  on  this  subject  there  are 
only  three  alternatives  :  either  the  apostles  must  have  been 
deceived  themselves;  or ^i\iiiy  must  have  coj7ipIeteIy  deceived 
others  ;  or,  they  spoke  the  truth.  Upon  which  of  these  con- 
clusions you  will  settle  down,  I  leave  to  every  man  to  de- 
cide, who  has  not  bid  a  last  farewell  to  his  reason  and  his 
senses. 

It  is  not  often,  my  hearers,  that  I  interfere  in  public  with 
any  of  the  evidences  of  Christianity.  The  candid  reason  is, 
I  think  it  too  late  in  the  day.  The  religion  of  this  Book 
stands  on  too  high  ground  to  require  an  elaborate  defence 
from  the  preacher,  and  a  corresponding  presumption  of  doubt 
in  the  hearers  5  for  everybody  knows  that  the  great  majority 
of  unbelievers  are  entirely  ignorant  of  the  subject,  and  there- 
fore to  talk  to  them  by  the  month  together  would  answer 
just  about  the  same  purpose  as  not  to  talk  to  them  at  all. 
One  thing,  however,  we  shall  do  well  to  recollect.  Not 
16* 


358  SERMON   XXV. 

only  does  the  apostle  tell  us  that  Christ  was  raised  from  the 
dead,  but  he  tells  us,  too,  that  he  dieth  no  more.  The  pro- 
vision for  our  pardon,  and  our  future  welfare,  has  been  made. 
The  great  sacrifice  has  been  offered  for  sin ;  and  to  each 
and  every  one  of  us  is  extended  the  Divine  invitation,  "  Come 
and  take  the  waters  of  life  freely."  We  may  cavil ;  we 
may  doubt ;  we  may  deny ;  but  all  the  evidence  we  ever 
shall  have,  we  have  already.  Christ  will  die  no  more,  and 
he  will  rise  no  more.  Not  again  will  he  ascend  the  Cross, 
for  those  who  choose  to  reject  him  now  ;  not  again  for  their 
impenitence  will  Calvary  be  bathed  in  blood.  It  has  once 
been  finished  ;  once  he  has  bowed  his  head,  and  given  up 
the  ghost ;  and,  believe  as  we  may,  Christianity  is  on  the 
march,  and  Christ  is  on  the  throne  ;  and  the  time  is  com- 
ing, whether  we  will  or  not,  when  the  most  unenviable,  and 
comfortless,  and  unhappy  name  in  all  the  dominions  of  God 
will  be  the  name  of  Lifidel  ! 


AGAINST    PROFANE    SWEARING.  359 


SERMON  XXVI. 

"  Above  all  tilings,  ray  brethren,  swear  not." 

JameSy  v.,  12. 

The  air  of  formality  and  importance  in  which  this  prohi- 
bition is  habited  by  the  apostle,  is  apt  at  first  sight  to  awaken 
a  feeling  of  surprise.  Had  he  merely  denounced  profane- 
ness  in  general  terms,  his  language  would  have  furnished  its 
own  explanation ;  but  to  forbid,  above  all  things,  a  practice 
which,  though  plainly  improper,  does  yet  by  no  means  carry 
along  with  it  the  enormity  chargeable  on  many  others,  is  a 
matter  of  some  astonishment.  Now,  my  hearers,  if  we  look 
at  the  case  in  its  true  bearings,  perhaps  the  subject  will  come 
down  upon  us  with  far  greater  solemnity  than  we  have 
hitherto  imagined.  St.  James,  who  wrote  this  epistle,  ap- 
pears to  suppose,  and  with  much  justice,  that  those  whom 
he  addressed  were  all  cherishing,  on  one  ground  or  another, 
the  hope  of  salvation.  To  destroy  their  self-confidence,  al- 
most without  seeming  to  do  so,  was,  as  far  as  we  can  judge, 
the  main  drift  of  his  letter.  He  enumerates  several  things  : 
inoperative  faith  ;  unbelieving  works  ;  a  spirit  of  contention  ; 
neglect  of  prayer  ;  pride  of  wealth, — as  being  either  of  them 
a  decisive  evidence  of  unregeneracy.  But  aware  that  upon 
these  topics  there  was  room  for  deception — aware  that  an 
individual  may  easily  escape  from  any  general  charge  which 
points  out  no  single  action  of  his  own  by  name,  the  apostle 
goes  on  to  present  a  still  plainer  criterion,  by  which  every 
one,  if  guilty,  might  come  at  once  to  a  conclusion.  "  Above 
all  things,"  is  his  language,  "  swear  not."  As  if  he  had  said, 
However  you  may  be  deceived  in  other  respects,  one  thing 
is  certain,  that  an  habitual  indulgence  in  the  common  sin 


360  SERMON  XXVI. 

of  profaneness  furnishes  indisputable  evidence  that  you  have 
no  evangelical,  well-grounded  hope  of  salvation. 

Since,  therefore,  the  subject  is  now  before  us,  let  us,  aside 
from  every  religious  view  of  it,  look  upon  it  in  some  other 
lights.  Confining  ourselves  to  the  individual  alone,  who  is 
accustomed  to  trifle  with  the  name  of  God,  we  may  ask  what 
possible  motive — what  temptation,  can  be  thought  of  for  a 
practice  so  directly  at  war  with  the  whole  scope  of  the  Bible. 
If  it  were,  that  any  passion  pleaded  for  gratification  ;  if  it 
were,  that  an  animal  appetite  should  pass  its  wonted  bounds, 
and  seek  indulgence ;  if  it  were,  in  short,  that  we  aimed  at 
any  object,  however  worthless,  or  any  interest,  however  re- 
mote— then,  indeed,  it  might  sometimes  find  a  place  upon 
the  catalogue  of  our  infirmities;  but,  contrary  to  all  this,  it 
seems  absolutely  without  motive,  and  without  end — an  un- 
provoked violation  of  the  law  of  God.  There  is,  I  know,  a 
class  of  persons,  especially  those  of  feeble  intellect,  who  ap- 
pear to  believe  that  an  unusual  hardihood  in  swearing  carries 
along  with  it  the  evidence  of  intrepidity.  And  there  is  an- 
other class,  who  evidently  aim  at  the  exhibition  of  wit,  and 
would  think  a  repartee  by  no  means  so  brisk,  nor  a  story  so 
well  told,  unless  interspersed  at  every  little  interval  with  an 
oath.  And  there  is  another  class,  more  numerous,  perhaps, 
than  all  the  rest  together,  who  have  no  way  of  evincing  their 
sincerity,  except  to  call  upon  God,  at  convenient  distances 
in  their  remarks,  to  damn  their  souls,  or  at  least  the  souls  of 
those  who  happen  to  fall  within  the  sweep  of  their  conver- 
sation. But  surely,  my  hearers,  it  is  too  late  in  the  day  for 
mankind  to  be  caught  by  flourishes  so  perfectly  empty  as 
these  ;  and  besides,  unfortunately  for  the  swearer,  whatever 
imaginary  laurels  he  may  gather  from  his  ex|)ertness,  he 
finds  himself  always  and  entirely  outdone  upon  the  very 
lowest  walks  of  society.  The  most  debased  and  abandoned 
miscreants  of  every  color  are  commonly  the  most  forward 


AGAINST    PROFANE    SWEARING.  361 

to  trample  on  the  name  of  God  ;  and  the  cells  of  a  peniten- 
tiary resound  with  far  more  pithy  and  ingenious  oaths  than 
we  can  hear  enlivening  the  merriment  of  the  table,  or  lard- 
ing the  salutations  of  the  coffee-house.  But,  irony  aside, 
the  effect  which  a  habit  of  profaneness  inevitably  puts  forth 
upon  the  mind,  is,  as  the  apostle  says,  above  all  things  to  be 
avoided.  I  do  not  mean  that  it  implies  a  deviation  from  the 
path  of  high  and  honorable  deportment ;  but  this  I  mean, 
that  it  insensibly  enfeebles  our  views  of  the  Supreme  Being, 
wears  out  religious  impressions,  and  throws  over  the  soul  a 
callousness  to  its  future  and  eternal  destinies.  Hence,  we 
hear  the  practice  often  palliated,  by  ascribing  it  to  the  mere 
force  of  custom  ; — yes,  a  custom  in  which  the  individual 
hardly  knows  when  he  indulges.  And  who  will  say,  that 
such  an  insensibility  to  habitual  sin  is  not  a  state  of  mind 
deeply  to  be  deplored  ?  My  hearers,  so  far  from  palhating, 
it  enhances  our  guilt ;  and  if  there  be  a  God  on  the  throne 
of  the  universe,  He  must,  and  Ho  will,  punish  with  tenfold 
severity  that  hardihood  of  impenitence,  which  has  so  long 
indulged  in  sin  as  not  even  to  be  conscious  of  the  perpetra- 
tion. 

But  look  at  this  subject  in  another  light.  What  is  the 
public  tendency  of  profaneness  ?  Ask  the  children  who  sur- 
round your  firesides,  or  swarm  through  your  streets  ;  ask 
your  servants  and  dependents,  who  dare  not  do  before  you 
what  you  dare  do  before  Heaven's  God  ;  ask  each  other, 
from  the  highest  to  the  lowest  classes  of  community ;  ask, 
I  say,  who  invented  the  vocabulary  of  oaths  and  curses,  and 
I  will  venture  to  predict  that  not  a  single  one  can  be  found, 
who  will  claim  the  merit  of  originality.  Each  individual 
received  the  contagion  from  others  ;  and  certainly  a  more 
impressive  commentary  on  the  force  of  public  example  cannot 
be  conceived.  Nor  is  this  the  extent  of  the  evil.  It  has  a 
worse  and  a  wider  influence  in  regard  to  the  great  social 


362  SERMON   XXVI. 

compact  under  which  we  live.  No  one,  accustomed  at  all 
to  inspect  the  frame  of  well-regulated  society,  need  be  re- 
minded that  the  obligation  of  an  oath  ought  to  be  kept  clothed 
with  the  utmost  sacredness  and  solemnity.  But  is  this  the 
fact  ?  By  no  means.  Hundreds,  especially  of  the  ignorant 
classes,  are  in  want  only  of  a  sufficient  stimulus  to  burn  and 
blister  their  lips  with  the  most  abominable  perjury.  And 
why?  We  need  not  wonder  at  it;  it  is  merely  adding  an 
aspect  of  deliberateness  to  what  they  had  done  again  and 
again  before,  in  the  common  round  of  conversation.  Yon 
can  easily  see,  my  hearers,  that  this  familiarity  with  swear- 
ing would  naturally  endanger  the  sanctions  which  judicial 
proceeding  attaches  to  it ;  and  if  presumptive  considerations 
be  not  enough,  go  and  consult  the  ablest  writers  of  Europe, 
I  care  not  whether  Christian  or  Infidel,  and  one  and  all  will 
lend  assent  to  the  opinion  that  it  is  profaneness,  more  than 
any  single  cause  besides,  which  effaces  the  obligation  of  ju- 
dicial oaths  from  the  mind.  I  have  myself  known  individu- 
als stand  up  in  courts  of  justice,  and  swear  to  positive  false- 
hoods, when  the  same  men,  having  enforced  upon  them  the 
kissing  of  a  Bible,  or  a  cross,  would  turn  pale,  and  halt,  and 
tremble,  and  finally  speak  the  truth  ;  and  the  reason  plainly 
was,  that  the  simple  act  of  swearing  was  too  common  with 
them  to  inspire  solemnity,  while  the  merest  appendage,  in 
itself  of  no  value,  clothed  the  whole  transaction  with  a  novel- 
ty which  produced  the  effect. 

I  say  not  these  things  as  if  any  of  us  were  in  danger, 
from  a  habit  of  profaneness,  of  losing  our  veneration  for 
an  oath :  but  this  1  say,  that  each  of  us  is  putting  forth  an 
example  which  has  its  sphere  of  influence.  And  we  are 
solemnly  bound,  in  whatever  relation  of  hfe,  as  parents,  as 
citizens,  as  men,  to  abandon  a  practice  which  carries  with 
it  the  silent  and  imperceptible,  but  certain  consequence  of 
inflicting  a  serious  injury  on  the  public  welfare.     There  is 


AGAINST    PROFANE    SWEARING.  363 

still,  however,  another  light  in  which  this  subject  presents 
itself, — one  more  impressive  than  any  that  have  yet  been 
named.  I  mean  in  regard  to  the  positive  and  repeated 
prohibitions  of  the  Godhead.  Go  the  rounds  of  human 
society,  and  what  a  picture  meets  the  eye !  In  the  domin- 
ions of  Mahometanism,  you  will  see  a  devout  Turk  curb- 
ing his  fondness  for  wine  during  life,  in  obedience  to  his 
prophet.  In  Pagan  countries,  the  Hindoo  will  forego  his 
ordinary  food  for  weeks  together,  because  the  beda  or  shaster 
enjoins  it.  And  even  among  the  Indians  of  our  own  wil- 
derness, you  will  find  the  most  painful  austerities  enforced 
in  the  worship  of  the  Great  Spirit.  But  come  back  to 
Christendom,  and  one  half,  if  not  more,  of  the  whole  popu- 
lation are  indulging  in  a  habit  of  profaneness  which  the 
Christian's  God  has  forbidden,  and  to  which  not  a  propensity 
in  human  nature  furnishes  the  least  palliating  incentive  or 
temptation  !  But  is  nothing  alleged  to  excuse  it  ?  Cer- 
tainly there  is,  my  hearers ;  and  never,  since  the  days  of 
Adam,  has  there  been  a  sin  for  which  human  ingenuity  has 
not  devised  an  excuse  !  The  swearer  tells  you  that  he 
means  no  harm  :  and  what  does  this  prove  ?  Why,  only 
that  he  has  forgotten  his  Creator,  and  trampled  on  the  duty 
he  owes  him,  and  become  so  much  of  a  veteran  in  the 
practice,  as  to  be  insensible  to  its  enormity.  Mean  what  he 
may,  let  him  Jay  his  hand  on  the  Bible,  and  ask,  if  the  un- 
changeable God  will  hold  him  guiltless  who  taketh  his 
name  in  vain?  He  tells  you,  again,  that  he  swears  only 
under  the  excitement  of  passion  or  drink.  And  here,  you 
see,  is  one  sin  lugged  in  to  expiate  another.  How  came  he 
under  that  excitement  ?  As  if  the  native  depravity  of  the 
heart  were  not  sufficient,  it  must  be  goaded  on  by  animal 
indulgencies.  Quite  as  well,  yes,  better,  might  the  crimi- 
nal escape  justice  by  pleading  that  he  too  was  under  influ- 
ence of  rage  or  intoxication  !     It  is  said,  again,  especially 


364  SERMON   XXVI. 

by  persons  entrusted  with  command,  that  profaneness  is  ne- 
cessary to  enforce  obedience.  The  whole  secret  of  this  is, 
that  superiors  upon  sea  or  land  become  first  accustomed,  on 
any  urgent  occasion,  to  evince  their  earnestness  by  a  volley 
of  oaths,  until,  at  last,  they  never  seem  to  their  men  in  earn- 
est without  oaths.  Let  them  fix  upon  any  artificial  mark  of 
earnestness,  whatever — a  sentence  in  Greek,  or  an  extract 
from  Propria  quce  marihus — and  it  will  help  them  quite  as 
much  in  the  command  of  sailors,  soldiers,  or  workmen,  as 
profaneness  now  does,  if  it  only  be  as  often  and  as  furiously 
repeated. 

Alas !  my  hearers,  wretched,  wretched  indeed  are  such 
apologies  for  the  profanation  of  the  awful  name  of  God. 
How  you  may  feel,  I  cannot  say, — the  practice  has  spread 
so  widely  among  men,  that  by  this  time  it  is  rifled  of  nearly 
all  its  seeming  enormity  ;  but,  for  my  part,  I  confess  I  should 
shudder  at  contracting  a  guilt  like  this,— so  useless  to  my- 
self, and  so  insulting  to  my  Maker  ;  and  if  I  did  it,  I  should 
shudder  still  more  to  look  forward  to  that  terrific  and  appal- 
ling day,  when,  for  every  idle  word,  the  all-seeing  God  will 
bring  me  into  judgment ! 

A  single  remark  more,  and  I  have  done  :  I  observed, 
when  I  commenced,  that  the  subject  brought  before  us  by 
the  text  was  one  of  unusual  solemnity.  The  reason  is, 
that  every  individual,  no  matter  who,  addicted  to  the  habit 
of  profaneness,  is  carrying  upon  himself  the  most  positive 
and  unequivocal  mark  of  impenitence ! 

Let  me  be  understood,  my  hearers,  I  do  not  mean  that  every 
lingering  imperfection  in  the  human  heart  is  to  be  construed 
into  an  evidence  of  its  unregeneracy.  So  far  from  it,  the  New 
Testam3nt  expressly  informs  us  that  a  variety  of  sins  will  lurk 
in  a  Christian's  bosom  even  after  his  conversion.  But  what 
are  they  1  They  are  sins  of  infirmity.  But  is  profaneness 
of  this  class  ?     What  constitutional  weakness  would  ever 


AGAINST    PROFANE    SWEARING.  365 

tempt  a  man,  if  left  to  himself,  without  the  pestilence  of 
example  around  him,  to  swear  ?  They  are  sins  of  igno- 
rance. But  is  profaneness  of  this  class  ?  Hardly  can  we 
turn  to  a  page  of  the  Bible,  on  which  it  is  not  in  the  plain- 
est terms  condemned.  They  are  sins  of  surprise.  But  is 
profaneness  of  this  class?  Who  was  ever  surprised  into  a 
habit,  and  especially  one  which  not  a  propensity  in  human 
nature  is  found  to  crave  ? 

No,  my  hearers,  I  might  call  upon  you  by  your  duty 
to  yourselves,  to  your  children,  to  society,  to  mankind,  to 
relinquish  a  practice  which  good  sense  disclaims  no  less 
than  religion  prohibits.  But,  apart  from  all  those  things, 
what  I  now  wish  is  to  tell  another  very  solemn  thing  ;  that 
to  swear^  in  the  sense  of  the  apostle,  is  a  deliberate  violation 
of  the  law  of  God.  It  never  was,  and  never  will  be,  habitu- 
ally chargeable  on  a  follower  of  Christ ;  and,  to  endeavor 
for  a  moment  to  reconcile  it  with  the  feeblest  hope  of  salva- 
tion, would  be  like  supposing  an  act  of  open  treason  in  a 
patriot,  or  a  known  and  pre-meditated  larceny  in  an  honest 
man  ! 

The  rest  I  leave  to  your  own  reflections. 


366  SERMON  XXVII. 


SERMON  XXVII. 

"And  this  is  the  condemnation  that  light  is  come  into  the  world,  and 
men  loved  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds  were  evil." 

1  John^  iii.,  19. 

It  is  no  wonder,  my  hearers,  that  the  Gospel  should  be 
depicted  upon  the  pages  of  inspiration  under  the  warm  and 
animating  image  of  light.  To  us,  there  is  no  other  lan- 
guage fitted  to  convey  the  religion  of  Christ  in  the  real 
loveliness  of  its  attributes.  We  have  seen  the  imposing 
step  with  which  it  has  moved  through  society ;  we  have 
witnessed  the  splendid  renovations  which  have  everywhere 
followed  its  march  ;  we  have  felt  (or  it  is  our  own  fault  if 
we  have  not  felt),  the  commanding  influence  which  it 
wields  over  the  heart,  in  dislodging  the  corruptions  of  sin, 
and  leaving,  in  their  place,  the  high  and  holy  hopes  of  im- 
mortality ;  and  yet,  on  some  accounts,  the  metaphor  of  the 
text  must  have  been  more  striking  to  the  primitive  Church 
than  it  is  even  to  us.  They  had  what  we  have^never  had,  the 
spectacle,  not  merely  of  Christianity  itself,  but  of  the  gloom 
which  it  came  to  irradiate.  Not  only  did  they  see  the 
*'  Sun  of  Righteousness  "  as  we  do,  but  thoy  saw  it  "  arise," 
and  they  beheld  the  deepening  shadows  of  night  upon 
which  it  shone,  and  they  watched  its  first  glowing  and  glit- 
tering beams  breaking  over  the  surrounding  expanse  of 
darkness  and  desolation.  It  is  not  therefore  wonderful,  that 
the  early  Christians,  as  well  as  ourselves,  and  perhaps  more 
intensely,  should  have  felt  in  all  its  force  the  gladdening 
assurance,  that  life  and  immortality  were  brought  to  light 
in  the  Gospel.  But,  after  all,  so  far  as  regards  the  meaning 
of  the  passage  I  have  read  to  you,  we  are  still  short  of  the 
mark.     There  is  reference  here  not  so  much  to  Christian^ 


LOVE  OF  DARKNESS  RATHER  THAN  LIGHT.       367 

ity  in  the  character  of  a  public  institution,  as  to  the  scheme 
it  has  devised,  for  offering  pardon  to  the  sentenced  and 
perishing  sinners.  This  it  is  to  which  the  language  of  our 
text  gives  the  emphatic  name  of  light,  and  I,  for  one,  am 
ready  to  lend  my  most  cordial  assent  to  the  propriety  of  the 
appellation.  I  do  so,  because,  when  I  have  travelled  my- 
self tired  through  the  writings  of  Heathen  philosophy,  much 
as  I  see  of  genius,  and  eloquence,  and  learning,  I  find  not 
the  glimpse  of  well-founded  consolation  for  the  sinner,  I  do 
so,  because,  look  where  I  will,  beyond  the  pale  of  Christen- 
dom, I  meet  nothing,  unless  it  be  in  the  ablutions  of  the 
Ganges,  or  the  agonies  of  the  funeral  pile,  or  under  the  drip- 
ping wheels  of  Juggernaut,  nothing  like  a  provision  for  the 
sinner.  I  do  so,  because  the  New  Testament  tells  me,  that 
Jesus  Christ  has  expired  on  the  Cross,  and  every  page  of  it 
teems  with  the  offers  of  pardon,  and  all  this  time  I  feel 
that  I  myself  am  a  sinner^  to  be  saved,  if  saved  at  all,  by 
some  such  mighty  and  atoning  substitute.  These  are  the 
reasons  that  the  Gospel  is  described  to  us  under  the  simili- 
tude of  light ;  and  surely,  we  may  look  upon  it  in  a  spiritual 
sense,  as  we  do  upon  the  sun  in  a  natural — the  great  foun- 
tain of  warmth  and  splendor — sending  animation  through 
the  works  of  God,  and  diffusing  without  diminishing  its 
glory. 

Thus  much  for  the  light  that  has  "  come  into  the  world." 
I  pass  on  to  the  main  drift  of  the  passage,  which  is,  that 
men  love  darkness  rather  than  light,  because  their  deeds  are 
evil.  To  get  hold  of  this  language  in  its  true  practical  im- 
port, we  had  better  apply  it  at  once  upon  a  course  of  familiar 
illustration,  for  all  of  us  must  see,  that  the  text,  instead  of 
imputing  our  sins  to  our  ignorance,  has  ascribed  our  igno- 
rance to  our  sins  ;  or,  in  other  words,  has  laid  against  us  the 
charge  of  rejecting  the  truth,  merely  because  it  clashes 
with  our  impenitence.     Suppose,  then,  we  commence  the 


368  SERMON   XXVII. 

illustration  with  that  class  of  men  who  bear  the  name  of 
Infidels,     In  the  outset,  however,  I  should  like  to  ask,  how 
it  happens  to  be   known   that   there    are  Infidels?      Let 
Christianity  come  from  what  quarter  it  may,  it  certainly 
has  done  good  enough  to  be  treated  with  respect,  and  pushed 
forward  in  its  attempts  at  a  further   reformation.     Who, 
then,  actuated  by  pure  and  honest  feelings,  would  put  on 
the  armor  of  opposition  to  it,  and  aim  to  rob  his  fellow-crea- 
tures of  its  consolations  and  hopes,  without  even  the  de- 
cency of  offering  the  least  equivalent  or  substitute  ?    If  such 
"  deeds"  be  not  "  evil,"  then  nothing  is  evil.     But  I  am 
willing  to  lay  that  consideration  aside.     We  all  know  there 
are  Infidels,  and  we  have  seen  them  encircling  the  Church 
with  their  trains  laid,  and  their  matches  lighted,  and  clothed 
in  the  imposing  panoply  of  war.     What  then  ?     I  put  the 
question,  if  the  most  violent  of  all  this  hostility  has  not 
sprung  from  the  most  unworthy  impulse  ?     Where  was  the 
splendid  genius  of  Voltaire  when  he  sunk  into  a  mere  buf- 
foon in  assailing  religion  ?     Where  was  the  comprehensive 
sagacity  of  Bolingbroke  when  he  launched  upon  the  chao- 
tic extravagance  of  his  "  Essays  ?"     Where  was  the  strong 
and  athletic  mind  of  Paine,  when  he  consigned  himself  to 
the  everlasting  infamy  of  writing  the  "  Age  of  Reason  ?" 
Plainly,  these  men  rejected  Christianity,  not  because  they 
could  not,  but  because  they  dared  not,  believe  it.     They 
were  driven  to  impiety  of  principle  as  a  sort  of  palliation 
for  their  impurity  of  practice,  and  upon  them  it  is  that  the 
sentiment  of  our  text  finds  its  most  legitimate  application. 
But  move  along  further  into  the  ranks  of  skepticism.     We 
every  day  see,  around  us,  individuals  who  intrench  them- 
selves in  a  profound  opposition  to  the  Bible.     But  come  to 
get  at  the  truth  of  the  matter,  we  find  them,  much  as  they 
are  informed  on  the  subject,  in  a  state  of  absolute  igno* 
ranee  about  religion.     Nine  out  of  ten  have  taken  up  their 


LOVE  OP  DARKNESS  RATHER  THAN  LIGHT.      369 

infidelity  from  chance,  without  a  single  argument  in  its  fa- 
vor, and  the  secret  of  the  whole  is,  that  it  gives  a  wider 
swing  to  their  indulgencies,  and  relieves  them  from  the  in- 
consistency of  believing  one  thing  and  practising  another. 
They  love  the  darkness,  merely  because  their  deeds  are 
evil.  Well,  there  is  another  exemplification  of  the  text, 
more  commonly  to  be  met  with  than  the  one  we  have  just 
left,  and  that  is  the  rejection,  not  of  Christianity  itself,  but 
of  all  the  abasing  and  experimental  doctrines  M'hich  belong 
to  it. 

My  hearers,  when  the  question  is  up  about  the  salvation 
of  our  never-dying  souls,  it  is  of  little  consequence  what 
may  turn  out  to  be  our  opinions.  The  mere  circumstance 
of  yielding  assent  to  the  Bible  on  the  strength  and  evidence 
as  we  would  yield  it  to  any  other  book,  is  never  going  to 
carry  us  to  Heaven.  If  we  ever  reach  Heaven,  there  must 
be  the  process  of  a  personal  and  a  thorough  preparation, 
and  this  is  gone  through  only  by  plying  the  doctrines  of 
the  New  Testament,  and  bringing  them  to  bear  upon  the 
actual  state  of  the  affections  in  the  sight  of  God.  Now, 
when  the  preacher  endeavors  to  do  so — when  he  presses 
home  the  spiritualities  of  religion — when  he  begins  to  move 
a  step  towards  the  conscience,  with  the  intention  of  dis- 
turbing its  repose, — then  it  is,  that  his  hearers  throw  up  a 
shield  of  adamant  against  the  attack,  and  hundreds,  who 
receive  the  whole  of  Christianity  in  general,  put  away  from 
them  every  word  of  it  in  particular.  In  vain  does  he  urge 
the  depravity  of  the  heart — the  importance  of  regeneration 
— the  eternity  of  future  punishment.  In  vain  does  he  ofTer, 
as  he  goes  along,  the  heavy  sanction  of  "Thus  saith  the 
Lord,"  to  every  word  he  utters.  It  is  all  to  no  purpose. 
Some  call  it  the  language  of  mystery,  and  others  the  ex- 
citement of  enthusiasm,  and  others  still  find  fault  with  his 
preaching,  for  not  being  practical.     Nothing  takes  effect- 


370  SfiRMON   XXVlli 

Thsre  remains,  among  his  hearers,  just  about  as  much  and 
as  obdurate  impenitence,  as  if  he  were  reciting  the  illusions 
of  a  dream,  or  the  fictions  of  a  high-colored  romance* 
And  do  you  ask  the  explanation  of  this  ?  Why,  it  is  plain 
as  the  sun  in  the  firmament.  How  are  men  to  believe  doc- 
trines which,  when  admitted,  must  ring  in  their  ears  one  un- 
ceasing alarm  ?  No,  so  long  as  their  deeds  are  evil,  they 
feel  it  necessary,  in  self-defence,  to  shape  their  course  ac- 
cordingly—  to  fly  from  that  sight  which  would  show  them 
to  themselves,  and  unclench  their  death-like  grasp  on  the 
world,  and  drive  them  up  at  once  to  the  most  irksome  of  all 
employments-^the  work  of  experimental  Christianity. 

Well,  the  thing  does  not  stop  here.  There  is  another 
class  of  persons  who  not  only  receive  religion,  but  they  re* 
ceive  also  the  most  strict  and  mortifying  doctrines  of  it ; 
and  yet  they  keep  completely  away  from  the  point  of  being 
real  Christians.  With  all  the  rigor  of  their  orthodoxy,  they 
live  along  in  the  character  of  unpardoned  sinners,  and  carry- 
around  with  them,  from  day  to  day,  the  entire  conscious- 
ness that  they  are  unprepared  for  eternity.  Approach  them 
on  the  subject  of  their  salvation,  and  they  will  tell  you  that 
the  diversity  of  their  engagements  absorbs  their  time  and 
unfits  them  for  serious  concerns — but  not  an  hour  do  they 
subtract  fron  their  business  to  give  to  their  souls  ;  or,  they 
will  tell  you,  perhaps,  that  they  are  unable  to  work  upon 
themselves  that  renovating  change  required  by  the  Gospel — 
but  never  does  this  self-distrust  put  them  upon  an  applica- 
tion to  the  all-sufficiency  of  Jesus  Christ.  Or,  they  will 
tell  you,  again,  that  they  lament  their  own  inactivity,  and 
wonder  that  their  hearts  are  so  immoveably  obdurate  ;  but 
not  a  step  do  they  take  towards  that  atoning  Cross  beneath 
which  their  stubbornness  may  be  melted.  No ;  none  of 
this.  Ready  as  they  are  to  acknowledge  that  salvation  is 
the  gift  of  God,  they  continue  entirely  to  forget  that  man 
is  enjoined  to  work  it  out  with  fear  and  trembling. 


LOVE  OP  DARKNESS  RATHER  THAN  LIGHT.       371 

Do  you  not  know,  my  hearers,  that  a  large  portion  of  the 
Christian  world  belong  to  the  very  class  I  am  attempting 
to  describe  ?  And  what  is  the  reason  of  it  ?  Why,  read 
over  the  text,  and  you  will  find  the  reason.  1  do  not  mean 
that  their  deeds  are  evil  in  any  such  sense  as  to  fix  upon  them 
the  charge  of  immorality  ;  but  this  I  do  mean,  that  what- 
ever flimsy  excuses  they  may  devise  for  their  impenitence, 
the  fault  is  exclusively  their  own.  The  single  cause  of 
their  remaining  in  darkness  is  that  they  love  it.  They 
are  too  closely  rivetted  to  their  sins  to  exchange  them  for  an 
interest  in  the  Saviour.  The  truth  is,  they  wish  to  be  hap- 
py, but  they  do  not  wish  to  be  holy  ;  for,  if  they  did,  why 
not  surrender  their  hearts  at  once  to  Christ,  who  stands 
ready  to  fill  them  with  all  the  preciousness  of  his  grace, 
and  all  the  demonstrations  of  his  glory  ?  No  ;  they  will 
give  up  one  sin,  or  another  sin,  but  the  great  principle  of 
sin  within  them  cannot  be  dislodged.  They  hold  on  to  it 
like  a  drowning  man  to  a  strip  of  plank  in  his  last  convul- 
sions— fixing  his  grasp  with  redoubled  eagerness,  at  the 
very  moment  when  he  feels,  if  he  feels  at  all,  that  it  must 
inevitably  go  down  with  him  for  ever. 

And  now,  my  hearers,  what  I  wish  is  to  lay  before  you 
the  remaining  clause  of  our  text,  which  affirms  that  the  rea- 
son of  our  condemnation  is  that  very  choice  of  darkness 
rather  than  light  about  which  we  have  been  speaking.  It 
matters  little  by  whom  this  choice  is  made,  whether  by  the 
rich  or  the  poor — the  accomplished  or  the  illiterate  ;  and  it 
matters  not  much  more  to  what  particular  aspect  of  the 
subject  it  refers — whether  to  open  skepticism,  or  to  mere 
general  consent — or  to  what  St.  Paul  calls  "  being  almost  a 
Christian."  One  thing  is  certain,  that  by  just  how  much 
we  stop  short  of  experimental  religion,  by  just  so  much 
will  God  keep  in  store  for  us  the  lash  of  a  future  punish- 
ment. I  am  well  aware  that  apologies  may  be  rallied  on 
our  side.     We  rtiay  trust  to  the  light  of  Nature,  or  talk 


372  SERMON   XXVII. 

about  honest  scruples,  or  put  on  the  embellishment  of  an 
unimpeachable  exterior,  but  to  all  these  things  I  plead  the 
single  offset,  that  '■^what  God  hath  spoken  He  will  doit.^^ 

Look  at  the  case  :  Sinners  as  we  are,  has  not  a  flood  of 
light  been  poured  upon  the  road  we  are  travelling  to  eter- 
nity ?  Has  Eot  a  Saviour  expired  in  disgrace  and  agony 
upon  the  cross  ?  Have  not  the  arches  of  Heaven  almost 
audibly  rung  with  the  news  of  an  unmerited  pardon,  with- 
out money  and  without  price  ?  Is  there  one  excluded  from 
the  offer,  or  has  there  ever  been,  on  this  side  the  grave,  a 
single  suppliant  banished  from  the  footstool  of  mercy  ?  I 
lay  the  appeal  upon  every  individual  in  the  reach  of  my 
voice.  Much  as  you  have  relied  on  some  favorite  set  of 
evasions  and  excuses,  would  you  not,  this  hour,  become  an 
experimental  Christian  but  for  your  sins  ?  Answer  it  in 
the  sight  of  Heaven — is  there  any  thing  that  looks  like  an 
obstacle,  besides  the  stubbornness  of  your  reluctant  and  un- 
yieldng  heart  ?  And,  while  you  say  this,  are  you  not  ad- 
mitting the  charge  laid  against  you  by  the  text — of  *'  loving 
darkness  rather  than  light,  because  your  deeds  are  evil  ?" 
And  what  is  the  consequence  ?  Why,  if  we  miss  of  salva- 
tion, it  is  a  business  of  our  own,  and  the  fault  will  lie  en- 
tirely with  ourselves.  I  put  it  to  your  souls,  my  hearers, 
after  Calvary  has  been  steeped  in  blood,  after  Inspiration 
has  laid  its  treasure  at  our  feet,  after  the  warnings  and 
entreaties  of  the  Gospel  have  been  pressed  upon  us  from 
childhood  to  this  hour,  and  after  conscience  has  added  to 
all  the  rest  its  most  impressive  and  affecting  confirmation, 
what  excuse  can  we  devise  for  our  impenitence  ?  With 
what  feelings  can  we  lie  down  upon  our  dying  beds  when 
the  glittering  pageantry  of  this  world  shall  have  vanished  ? 
How  can  we  raise  our  eyes  before  the  judgment-seat  of 
Christ  when  we  have  gone  there,  beating  back,  step  by  step, 
as  we  pass  along,  the  arm  of  his  offered  salvation  ? 


CAUSE  OP   LOVE  TO  GOD. 


SERMON  XXVIII. 

"  We  love  Him,  because  He  first  loved  us." 

1  John,  iv.,  19. 

This  passage  would  seem  at  first  sight  to  import,  that  a 
Christian's  love  to  God  is  the  mere  exercise  of  gratitude.  If 
it  were  so,  every  thing  like  evangelical  theology  is  laid  at 
once  in  ruins.  All  of  us  know  that  gratitude  is  a  feeling  of 
nature  alone  ;  it  is  a  tribute  which  bad  men,  as  well  as  good 
men,  pay  to  the  evidence  of  kindness  in  a  benefactor.  It 
may  be  awakened,  as  upon  any  other  subject,  so  on  that  of 
religion  ;  and  hundreds  there  are,  who  in  hearing  that  Christ 
for  their  sakes  underwent  a  painful  and  humiliating  death, 
will  find  their  eyes  to  fill,  and  their  hearts  to  melt,  at  the 
story  of  his  generous  humanity,  and  all  the  time  remain  just 
as  far  away  from  the  point  of  being  real  Christians  as  they 
were  before.  Gratitude,  therefore,  does  not  constitute  that 
love  to  God  which  our  text  had  in  view.  There  is  some- 
where another  meaning  to  the  words,  and  I  take  it  to  be 
simply  this  :  that  mankind  were  sunk  too  deeply  in  sin  to 
be  reclaimed  to  the  love  of  God,  unless  He  had  first  felt  to- 
wards them  the  yearnings  of  mercy,  and  devised  a  plan  by 
which  their  sins  and  their  stubbornness  might  be  subdued. 
That  such  is  the  true  import  of  the  p\ssage,  we  ascertain 
from  the  scope  of  the  chapter  to  which  it  belongs.  In  the 
9th  verse,  the  apostle  says,  that  "  God  sent  his  only  begot- 
ten Son  into  the  world,  that  we  might  live  through  him." 
Here  the  fact  stated  is,  that  Christ  has  come  into  the  world  ; 
and  the  consequence  of  it  is  that  we  may  now  live,  whereas,  if 
he  had  not  come,  we  must  have  perished.  A  little  further 
along  it  is  added,  that  "  we  love  God,  because  He  first  loved 
17 


374  SERMON  XXVIII. 

loved  us."  Here  the  fact  stated  is  that  He  loved  mankind ; 
and  the  consequence  of  it  is  that  they  may  now  be  brought 
to  cherish  a  reciprocal  affection,  whereas,  if  He  had  not 
loved  them,  and  sent  to  them  the  provision  of  a  Saviour, 
they  must  have  remained  as  they  were,  with  their  enmity 
unsubdued,  and  their  impenitence  unawakened. 

Thus  you  see  for  yourselves  the  meaning  of  the  text. 
We  shall  aim,  upon  what  the  apostle  has  affirmed,  to  raise 
two  points :  the  first,  that  if  any  of  us  have  really  the  love 
of  God,  we  are  indebted  for  it  to  His  mercy  in  sending  us  a 
Redeemer ;  the  second,  that  besides  our  veneration  in  gene- 
ral for  the  attributes  of  God,  we  must  love  Him,  as  He  is 
made  known  through  a  Redeemer  in  the  Gospel.  As  to  the 
first  point,  when  I  speak  about  "  really"  having  the  love  of 
God,  I  mean  to  exclude  the  feeling  of  gratitude  entirely  from 
the  appellation.  Gratitude  is  one  thing,  and  affection  an- 
other thing.  They  are  based  upon  different  principles  ;  the 
one  on  the  mere  reception  of  favor,  the  other  on  the  con- 
sideration of  merit.  Gratitude,  sensibility  to  kindness,  is 
perhaps  the  last  virtue,  if  it  be  a  virtue,  which  deserts  human 
nature,  even  in  its  lowest  debasement.  It  keeps  a  lingering 
hold  upon  our  hearts,  when  they  have  bidden  farewell  to 
nearly  every  other  sympathy,  and  every  other  kindly  emo- 
tion ;  and  experience  has  shown,  that  among  the  most  aban- 
doned of  malefactors,  there  is  uniformly  some  softened  part 
which  gives  way  at  the  approach  of  tenderness.  But  surely 
a  feeling  like  this,  the  companion  of  the  darkest  bosom,  will 
not  be  trumpeted  into  identity  with  the  breathings  of  a  warm 
and  confiding  attachment !  By  no  means.  It  is  altogether 
a  different  impulse.  To  the  man  who  lends  me  his  relief  in 
the  hour  of  misfortune,  I  may  tender  the  return  of  the  most 
grateful  acknowledgment,  and  yet,  when  the  single  attribute 
of  his  benevolence  is  taken  from  him,  I  may  look  upon  the 
whole  of  what  is  left  of  his  character  with  positive  disgust. 


CAUSE  OF  LOVE  TO   GOD.  375 

The  entire  emotion  in  me  is  but  a  kind  of  qualified  and  em- 
bellished selfishness,  and  nothing  pertains  to  it  which  can 
claim  the  dignified  rank  of  a  pure  and  lofty  affection.  By 
"really"  having  the  love  of  God,  I  mean  the  looking  upon 
Him  with  satisfaction — the  thinking  of  Him  with  delight, 
aside  completely  from  an  estimate  of  the  favors  which  we 
have  received  from  His  bounty.  In  every  heart  there  is 
some  ruling  passion,  and  what  I  say  is,  that  in  our  hearts 
that  passion  should  be  a  paramount  cordiality,  and  a  spon- 
taneous gladsomeness  in  contemplating  the  character  of 
God,  without  giving  to  Him  at  all  the  aspect  of  our  personal 
benefactor.  This  is  precisely  the  principle  which  holds  do- 
minion over  a  Christian's  bosom,  and  I  repeat,  that  he  is 
indebted  for  it  to  the  Divine  mercy  in  providing  a  Redeem- 
er. Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to  save  us,  not  in  our 
sins,  but  from  our  sins — to  reconcile,  not  God  to  man,  but 
man  to  God.  He  saw  us  fixed  in  the  attitude  of  a  most 
unbending  defiance  towards  the  Almighty,  and  he  aimed  to 
soften  our  obduracy,  and  bring  us  back  to  our  deserted  alle- 
giance. Some  there  gre,  I  know,  who  suppose  the  process 
of  becoming  the  friends  of  God  to  rest  entirely  on  their  own 
exertions,  and  who,  as  they  have  never  tried  in  earnest  to 
dislodge  the  corruptions  of  the  heart,  so  have  not  yet  learn- 
ed that  it  must  be  God  who  worketh  in  them  both  to  will 
and  to  do  of  His  own  good  pleasure.  But  surely  every  Chris- 
tian  will  bear  me  witness,  and  their  evidence  alone  it  is  which 
the  nature  of  the  case  admits  of,  that  the  depravity  of  an  un- 
regenerated  bosom  does  not,  and  will  not,  give  way,  unless 
all  the  urgencies  of  the  Holy  Spirit  are  matched  against  it 
— that  the  carnal  mind  is  to  so  deadly  an  extent  "  enmity 
against  God,"  that,  until  Divine  grace  interferes,  every  at- 
tempt we  make  to  subdue  it  is  futile,  and  serves  only  to 
show  us  more  and  more  forcibly  the  distance  of  our  moral 
alienation.     If  this  be  true,  and  true  it  is  upon  every  fair 


376  SERMON  XXVIII. 

and  legitimate  testimony,  if  we  ourselves  be  helpless,  where 
should  we  have  been  but  for  Jesus  Christ  ?  If  the  work  of 
giving  us  an  affection  for  God  result,  as  we  all  confess  it 
does,  solely  from  the  mercy  of  God,  was  not  the  apostle 
right  in  saying  that  we  love  Him  because  He  first  loved 
us,  and  sent  His  Son  to  be  a  propitiation  for  our  sins  ?  Then 
our  first  point  is  established,  and  the  second  remains  :  that 
as  God  has  made  Himself  known  through  a  Redeemer,  in 
that  character  must  we  love  Him.  It  is  altogether  useless 
to  set  before  the  imagination  a  being  invested  merely  with 
natural  perfections,  and  to  make  him  the  object  of  our  wor- 
ship. Such  an  one  may  be  the  God  of  reason,  or  the  God 
of  poetry,  or  the  God  of  an  admiring  philosophy,  but  he  is 
not  the  God  of  the  Bible.  There  are  those  who  will  talk  with 
eloquence  about  the  great  or  the  magnificent  attributes  of  the 
Almighty,  and  yet,  come  to  remind  them  of  God  in  Christ 
reconciling  the  world  unto  Himself,  and  they  find  the  charm 
at  once  dispelled. 

They  look  with  a  sort  of  rapture  upon  the  splendors  of 
creation,  or  the  scenery  of  external  nature,  or  even  the  sub- 
lime moralities  of  the  Bible  ;  but  there  the  curtain  falls. 
When  they  are  told  that  God,  in  maintaining  the  dignity  of 
His  government,  was  induced  to  surrender  His  Son  to  the 
agonies  of  the  Cross,  and  that  even  now  He  can  offer  salva- 
tion only  to  the  contrite  and  broken-hearted  sinner, — when 
they  hear  this,  the  subject  throws  off*  all  its  appendages  of 
grandeur,  and  sinks  down  into  a  tame  and  unmoving  reli- 
giousness. 

But,  my  hearers,  it  is  exactly  in  this  character  that  God 
must  be  loved,  as  the  Father  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ, 
and  in  and  through  him  the  Father  of  him  that  believeth. 

We  must  put  away  from  us  every  idea  of  receiving  a  par- 
don, or  of  standing  on  the  ground  of  acceptance,  or  of 
averting  the  positive  sentence  of  death  issued  against  us. 


CAUSE  OP  LOVE   TO  GOD.  377 

except  on  the  terms  of  a  thorough-going  repentance.  When 
we  have  done  this,  we  shall  behold  the  God  of  the  New 
Testament,  and  not  till  then.  We  shall  approach  Him  as 
the  hater  of  sin,  and  the  inflexible'  enemy  of  the  sinner, 
wherever  He  meets  him,  except  only  at  the  foot  of  an  aton- 
ing Cross.  We  shall,  in  short,  forget  all  the  natural  gran- 
deurs which  surround  Him,  and  cling  to  the  single  proffer  of 
mercy,  and  enter  completely  into  that  spirit  which  drew  from 
holy  Job  the  impressive  exclamation,  "  I  have  heard  of 
Thee  by  the  hearing  of  the  ear,  but  now  mine  eye  seeth 
Thee,  wherefore  I  abhor  myself,  and  repent  in  dust  and 
ashes."  This  is  the  language  in  which  we  are  to  approach 
that  awful  Being  who  holds  in  His  hands  our  eternal  desti- 
nies. We  do  not,  however,  imagine  that  the  affection  of 
love  is  associated  with  terror.  Far  from  it.  We  may  feel 
terror  ;  we  must  feel  it  when  we  first  seriously  step  into  the 
presence  of  the  Infinite  Jehovah,  on  the  business  of  our 
souls,  because  we  invariably  carry  along  with  us  a  load  of 
guilt,  without  apology  or  palliation.  But  when  we  have 
caught  the  hope  of  pardon,  the  scene  is  at  once  changed. 
God,  indeed,  remains  clothed  with  the  same  fearful  perfec- 
tions as  ever ;  but  then  we  look  upon  them  in  a  different 
light.  Terror  gives  way  to  a  confiding  and  reverential  at- 
tachment, and  those  severer  attributes  of  the  Deity  which 
once  we  contemplated  with  fear,  we  find  to  harmonize  with 
all  the  rest,  and  to  throw  over  them  the  chastenins:  influ- 
ence  of  a  consistent  explanation.  We  see  then,  without 
pressing  the  argument  further,  that,  in  this  one  matter,  a 
Christian's  views  are  essentially  distinct  from  the  views 
of  a  man  of  the  world.  A  man  of  the  world  loves  God  be- 
cause he  has  shared  His  bounties,  a  Christian  because  he  has 
discovered  the  beauty  of  His  holiness  :  a  man  of  the  world 
loves  God  because  His  character  is  majestic  and  imposing, 
a  Christian  because  it  bears  upon  it  the  lustre  of  punishing 


378  SERMON  XXVIII. 

sin,  while  it  offers  mercy  to  the  sinner.  In  a  word,  a  man 
of  the  world  loves  God  because  his  imagination  depicts  him 
in  the  mere  garb  of  his  natural  perfections,  a  Christian  be- 
cause he  feels  himself  guilty  and  helpless,  and  finds  his 
heart  warming  towards  that  parental  and  compassionate 
Being  who  could  stoop  to  provide  a  Redeemer  for  the  per- 
ishing children  of  men.  And  this  is  the  second  point  I 
wished  to  prove. 

Now,  my  hearers,  if  I  were  to  take  the  subject  we  have 
discussed,  and  walk  through  the  whole  of  these  pews  for 
its  application,  I  should  not  maet  an  individual  without  some 
semblance  of  love  to  God.  There  would  be  one  accustomed 
to  admire  the  works  of  creation,  the  loftiness,  perhaps,  and 
magnificence  of  the  heavens ;  and  he  would  pay  homage  to 
the  Divine  power.  There  would  be  another  familiar  with 
the  analysis  of  Providence,  in  its  protecting  and  merciful 
dispensations,  and  he  would  pay  homage  to  the  Divine 
goodness.  There  would  be  another  prepared  to  go  further 
still,  and  drop  the  tear  of  an  honest  gratitude  over  the  story 
of  a  Saviour's  death,  and  he  would  pay  homage  to  the  Di- 
vine compassion.  But  if  either,  or  if  all  of  these  exercises, 
make  up  the  one  thing  of  Gospel  love  to  God,  what,  I  ask, 
is  the  meaning  of  the  apostle  in  our  text  ?  To  possess  the 
feelings  which  I  have  just  recounted,  was  it  necessary  that 
God  should  first  have  that  love  to  us  which  induced  Him  to 
send  His  only  begotten  Son  into  the  world  ?  Might  we  not 
have  admired  the  splendors  of  creation— might  we  not  have 
acknowledged  the  kindness  of  Providence— might  we  not 
have  cherished  gratitude  to  a  benefactor,  without  the  dread- 
ful expenditure  of  the  blood  of  Christ  upon  Calvary's 
mount  ?  How  is  it,  then,  that  our  love  to  God  is  brought 
about  only  by  His  previous  love  to  us  in  the  gift  of  His 
Son? 

Why,  my  hearers,  the  plain  and  honest  truth  is  this  j 


CAUSE    OF    LOVE    TO   GOD.  379 

We  have  within  us,  by  nature,  hearts  which  turn  away  from 
the  holiness  and  purity  of  the  Divine  character.  We  do 
not  rehsh  these  perfections,  nor,  by  our  own  power,  can  we 
make  ourselves  tq  relish  them,  any  more  than  we  can  make 
ourselves  to  love  the  bitterness  of  wormwood.  Yet  relish 
them  we  must,  before  we  cross  the  threshold  of  Heaven. 
They  constitute  there  the  only  source  of  enjoyment ;  and 
even  were  we  in  Heaven,  with  our  antipathies  along  with 
us,  we  should  be  wretched  forever.  Something  then  must 
be  done  for  us,  and  Jesus  Christ  has  done  it.  He  has  ex- 
pired in  our  stead,  that  we  mi|^t  receive  the  Holy  Spirit, 
to  mould  our  hearts  anew,  and  from  enemies  to  make  us  the 
friends  of  God.  This  is  the  reason  that  His  love  is  the  great 
procuring  cause  of  ours,  for,  without  Hira,  our  hearts  would 
never  have  surrendered  their  hostility  to  the  Divine  nerfec- 
tions.  We  should  have  gone  on  to  the  day  of  death,  in- 
cased in  the  panoply  of  war  against  the  Almighty,  unless 
Christ  had  "  reconciled  us  unto  God  in  his  own  body  by  the 
Cross,  having  slain  the  enmity  thereby."  We  see,  there- 
fore, that  if  any  of  us  take  the  standing  of  the  friends  of 
God,  it  must  be  through  Christ  alone.  To  him  we  must  go, 
and  on  him  rely.  No  matter  how  many  noble  and  lofty 
conceptions  we  cherish  of  the  Deity,  no  matter  how  cordial 
be  our  veneration  for  His  attributes,  it  is  love  which  carries 
a  sinner  to  Heaven  ;  and  never  will  it  find  a  home  in  our 
hearts  unless  we  seek  it  at  the  foot  of  Calvary,  on  our  knees, 
and  through  the  merits  of  that  all-sufficient  Redeemer  which 
God  has  sent  for  the  salvation  of  man.     Amen, 


380  SERMON  XXIX. 


SERMON  XXIX.* 

"  As  many  as  have  sinrxd  in  the  law  shall  be  judged  by  the  law." 

Romans,  ii.,  12. 

The  solemn  spectacle,  my  brethren,  which  this  city  has 
been  called  the  past  week  to  witness,  is  fitted  to  put  us  all 
upon  reflection.  I  do  not  ijypean  that  there  are  any  of  us  so 
debased  as  to  need  such  a  warning  to  keep  us  from  such  a 
crime  ;  but  the  principle  upon  which  the  recent  execution  was 
grounded,  is  one  of  the  most  impressive  and  imposing  cha- 
racter. In  the  judicial  act  of  hurrying  two  fellow-beings 
into  eternity,  we  have  not  been  looking  on  the  infliction  of 
revenge — we  have  not  been  viewing  a  sacrifice  to  the  mere 
excitement  of  public  feeling — we  have  not  been  witness- 
ing the  fate  of  persons,  too  abandoned  for  reformation. 
None  of  this.  The  one  single  principle  presiding  over  the 
necessity  and  the  sternness  of  so  mournful  a  scene,  has 
been  the  unbending  majesty  of  law — of  law  which  knows 
none  of  the  impulses  of  mercy — which  puts  away  from  it 
every  sympathy  with  the  suffering  it  demands.  While,  then, 
the  laws  of  man  evince  so  much  severity,  suppose  we 
carry  our  contemplation  higher,  and  look  at  the  similar  re- 
lation in  which  all  of  us  stand  to  the  laws  of  the  Godhead. 
Do  not  call  this,  my  hearers,  an  unnatural  transition  to 
another  subject.  It  is  essentially  the  same  subject.  If 
there  be  any  truth  in  the  Bible,  "  sentence  has  passed  upon 
all  men  to  condemnation,"  and  surely  when  sentence  has 
issued,  we  need  not  be  told  that  somewhere  a  law  must  ex- 

*  Preached  on  the  Sabbath  succeeding  the  execution  of  two  men  for 
piracy. 


DIVINE    LAW   INEXORABLE.  381 

ist ;  and  that  it  has  been  violated,  and  that  it  has  put  forth 
its  penalties  against  the  transgressor. 

But  where  is  the  law  which  is  thus  affirmed  to  lay  upon 
us  all,  without  reserve,  the  brand  of  an  unsparing  condem- 
nation ?  Here  it  is,  my  brethren,  within  the  lids  of  the  Bi- 
ble. Here  is  the  statute-book  of  Heaven's  king.  Hard,  in- 
deed, I  know  it  is — to  look  upon  Inspiration  in  the  light  of 
positive  law,  and  to  clothe  it  with  the  corresponding  attri- 
butes of  sternness  and  inflexibility.  But  open  the  volume 
and  read  for  yourselves.  Does  it  not  lay  down  a  code  of 
intelligible  and  arbitrary  precepts  ?  Is  it  not  armed  on 
every  page  with  penalties  and  sanctions  ?  Are  not  we,  as 
subjects,  furnished  with  understanding,  and  conscience,  and 
free  will,  which  make  up  a  complete  obligation  to  obedi- 
ence ?  Then,  the  Bible  is  absolutely  law,  or  it  is  nothing. 
If  it  were  a  mere  summons  of  advice,  it  would  have  no  pre- 
cepts. If  it  aimed  only  at  moral  suasion,  it  would  have  no 
penalties.  As  it  is,  it  constitutes  to  every  intent  and  pur- 
pose, the  idea  of  law  in  all  its  severity,  and  all  its  require- 
ments, and  little  as  we  may  think  of  it  in  the  common  con- 
cerns of  life,  it  holds  over  each  and  every  one  of  us,  the  ex- 
ercise of  an  unyielding  and  paramount  authority.  This  is 
the  meaning  of  the  text,  "As  many  as  have  sinned  in  the 
law,  shall  be  judged  by  the  law."  In  other  words,  upon 
those  who  have  had  the  means  of  knowing  the  Book  of  God's 
Revelation,  it  will  enforce  all  its  penalties,  and  inflict  all  its 
punishments.  It  will  move  forward  to  complete  and  rigid 
execution  in  spite  of  the  ridicule,  the  neglect,  and  the  com- 
plaints of  mankind. 

Now,  putting  the  subject  into  this  attitude,  what  I  wish 
is  to  make  upon  it  two  simple,  but  very  important,  points : 
the  first,  that  where  the  Divine  law  has  been  promulgated, 
every  violation  of  it  must  be  punished  ; — the  second,  that 
all  of  us  have  committed  such  violation,  and,  therefore,  our 
17* 


382  SERMON  XXIX. 

punishment  must  sooner  or  later  arrive.  I  am  aware,  that 
in  urging  the  claims  of  the  Bible  to  universal  obedience,  the 
argument  will  be  met  by  the  plea  of  ignorance.  That  the 
allegation  is  true,  I  do  not  doubt ;  for  hundreds  there  are 
who  never  look  into  the  Scriptures  with  any  thing  like  an 
inquiring  eye,  from  one  year  to  another.  But  the  plea  of 
ignorance  where  the  means  of  information  exist,  is  absurdity 
in  terras.  As  well  might  a  slave,  on  the  approach  of  his 
master,  stop  his  ears,  and  squander  away  month  after 
month,  on  the  pretension  that  he  had  heard  no  orders  issued. 
Whose  fault  is  it,  that  we  are  ignorant  of  the  Law  of  God  ? 
Our  own — and  only  our  own.  If,  like  the  Heathen,  we 
had  been  left  unprovided  with  the  light  of  Inspiration,  the 
apostle  distinctly  affirms  that  a  condemnation  would  have 
issued,  simply  upon  the  abuse  of  reason  and  natural  con- 
science.  But  now,  that  we  have  the  statute-book  put  into 
our  hands,  by  it  we  shall  be  judged.  It  is  no  matter  whe- 
ther we  keep  it  shut,  or  whether  we  put  it  away  from  us  ; 
that,  and  that  alone,  will  be  the  standard  in  the  day  of  ac- 
counts, from  which  every  deviation,  ignorant  or  not,  will 
receive  the  prescribed  and  unmitigated  punishment.  But  I 
am  told,  that,  after  all  the  investigation  we  bestow  upon  the 
Bible,  we  may  differ  widely  in  our  interpretations,  and 
what  one  might  call  censurable,  another  with  equal  honesty 
would  justify.  Be  it  so.  It  is  not  my  wish  at  present  to 
limit  this  remark,  as  limit  it  we  must,  to  its  proper  applica- 
tion. In  interpreting  the  word  of  God,  there  may  undoubt- 
edly be  a  great  diversity  of  sentiment,  without  impairing 
the  least  fundamental  principle.  But  suppose,  what  some- 
times happens,  that  this  diversity  should  extend  further, — 
should  call  in  question  the  great  cardinal  points  of  religion. 
What  then  ?  Are  we  to  plead  our  own  opinions  in  offset 
to  the  letter  of  Revelation  ?  Apply  the  reasoning  upon  the 
ordinary  concerns  of  mankind.     When  a  law  is  intelligibly 


DIVINE   LAW    INEXORABLE.  383 

declared,  and  fairly  promulgated,  who,  I  ask,  is  to  decide 
its  meaning]  Is  it  to  succumb  to  the  convenient  interpre- 
tation of  those  at  whose  vices  it  is  aimed,  and  for  whose 
restraint  it  is  enacted  ]  Or  is  the  exposition  to  come  from 
the  same  authoritative  source  with  the  law  itself?  So  in 
religion — our  duties  are  distinctly  marked  out.  The  diffi- 
culty of  understanding  them  is  engrafted  merely  on  the 
hostilities  of  the  carnal  heart,  and  no  man,  who  seeks  in 
his  closet,  and  on  his  knees,  that  wisdom  which  is  from 
above,  can  remain  in  any  serious  or  fundamental  error. 
But,  perhaps,  there  may  be  an  obstacle  lying  deeper  than 
either  of  those  I  have  named.  It  may  be  urged,  that  the 
Bible  does  not  appear,  upon  satisfactory  evidence,  to  contain 
the  Law  of  God,  and,  therefore,  that  when  honest  scruples 
are  cherished  of  its  Divine  origin,  it  cannot  be  binding. 
Happily,  to  this  objection  we  are  provided  with  a  conclu- 
sive and  unanswerable  rejoinder.  To  refuse  assent  to  mat- 
ters of  evident  credibility,  so  far  from  excusing,  has  the  ef- 
fect of  aggravating.  We  should  think  it  an  unheard-of  de- 
fence for  violating  human  laws,  to  plead  a  disbelief  of  their 
authenticity  ;  for  to  admit  the  plea,  would  be  to  allow  us 
in  every  indulgence  whatever,  inasmuch  as  the  same  de- 
fence might  always  be  put  in  requisition,  no  matter  what 
might  be  the  evidence,  or  what  the  obligation.  At  the  same 
views  we  arrive  by  consulting  the  Scriptures,  ctruaulem 
disbelieved  in  Christ,  and  the  consequence  was,  not  a  justi- 
fication for  rejecting  his  Gospel,  but  the  reproach,  and  the 
vengeance  of  the  Godhead  upon  the  hardihood  which  de- 
fied such  overwhelming  evidence.  Chorasin  and  Beth- 
saida  followed  the  same  track  ;  but,  instead  of  finding  in  it 
a  shelter  for  the  guilt,  we  hear  them  sentenced  to  a  most 
fearful  woe,  because  the  mighty  works  which  had  been 
done  m  them  had  failed  to  bring  about  their  conviction 
and  repentance. 


384  ,    SERMON  XXIX. 

Look,  too,  for  yourselves,  my  hearers  :  Here  is  the  Bible, 
sealed  in  blood,  confirmed  by  miracles,  clothed  in  the  splen- 
dors of  demonstration  ;  and  if,  after  all,  you  choose  to  doubt 
whether  it  be  or  be  not  the  law  of  God,  where,  I  inquire,  is 
the  fault  ?  Violate  it  we  may,  and  then,  for  consistency's 
sake,  call  it  in  question  ;  but  all  the  time  it  is  moving  on  to 
a  complete  accomplishment,  and  ours  is  the  sin  and  the 
misery,  if  we  dare  to  impeach  the  many  sanctions  which  it 
carries  along  with  it.  But  not  only  so :  there  is  another 
point  to  be  made  on  the  text,  and  that  is,  we  have,  one  and 
all,  violated  the  Divine  law,  and  are,  consequently,  exposed 
to  its  threatened  punishment. 

Perhaps  no  man  in  his  senses  will  deny  that  he  is  a  sin- 
ner ;  and  the  very  idea  of  sin  implies  the  displeasure  of 
God,  for  a  God  who  did  not  hate  sin — in  other  words,  who 
would  put  it  on  a  level  with  holiness — would  plainly  be  no 
God  at  all.  The  great  thing,  however,  to  believe  and  to 
feel,  is,  that  our  sins  must  absolutely  and  inevitably  be  pun- 
ished as  they  deserve  ;  and  such  is  evidently  the  fact,  un- 
less they  be  robbed  of  their  enormity  by  some  counteractive 
palliation.  Is  this  palliation  to  be  found  ?  We  are  in- 
formed that  the  infirmities  of  our  nature  are  ascribable  to 
those  passions  which  God  has  implanted  in  us,  and,  there- 
fore, will  be  looked  upon  with  forbearance.  But  why  is  it, 
my  brethren,  that  we  approach  the  tribunal  of  Heaven  with 
a  set  of  excuses  which  are  never  admitted  before  the  loosest 
tribunal  of  earth  ?  Where  was  ever  a  criminal  who  had 
not  passion  to  plead  for  his  excesses  ?  There  is  not  a  lar- 
ceny, a  piracy,  a  murder,  which,  on  such  reasoning,  would 
retain  the  slightest  tinge  of  guilt,  or  the  slightest  exposure 
to  justice.  Go  into  the  sacred  Scriptures.  When  you  read 
that  Ahab  slew  Naboth,  do  you  find  his  crime  palliated  be- 
cause he  longed  for  his  unfortunate  neighbor's  vineyard  ? 
When  you  hear  of  Annanias  and  Sapphira  giving  in  a  false 


DIVINE   LAW   INEXORABLE.  385 

schedule  of  their  estate,  do  you  see  them  justified  because 
they  had  a  very  natural  attachment  to  their  property  ?  No. 
To  urge  the  impulse  of  passion  in  extenuation  of  sin,  is 
pleading  the  very  circumstance  which  gives  to  it  all  its  en- 
ormity and  all  its  aggravation. 

But  we  are  told  that  the  law  of  God  exacts  an  obedience 
which  the  sinner  is  unable  to  yield.  And  how  came  he  un- 
able  ?  Why,  his  heart,  his  disposition,  in  short,  his  sins, 
make  him  do  so.  And  is  this  to  exculpate  him  ?  Would 
a  servant  be  released  with  impunity  from  labor  because  he 
<;hose  to  cut  off  his  hands  ?  A  singular  sense,  indeed,  of  in- 
ability— that  we  can,  every  day,  break  the  Divine  law,  but 
have  no  power  to  abstain  from  breaking,  or,  which  is  the 
same  thing,  to  keep  it !  You  may  think,  my  hearers,  that 
this  excuse  is  never  urged,  but  you  mistake  the  matter — it 
is  urged  ;  and  if  we  have  never  resorted  to  it  ourselves,  it  is 
because  we  have  never  yet  been  serious  enough.  I  well 
remember  that,  among  those  unfortunate  men  recently  con- 
demned to  death  in  this  city,  there  was  not  one  who  felt 
the  least  concern  for  his  soul,  but  met  the  exhortation  to 
repentance  by  pleading  his  inability.  And  put  us  in  the  same 
situation.  Let  the  eternal  world  come  home  to  us  in  all  its 
nearness  and  all  its  solemnity,  and  the  moment  we  start 
upon  the  work  of  preparation,  we  shall  find  within  us  hearts 
that  will  not  bend  till  the  Almighty  grace  of  God  is  put  forth 
to  subdue  their  reluctance,  and  melt  their  obduracy. 

But  a  hope  still  more  relied  upon  by  the  sinner,  in  regard 
to  the  penalties  of  the  Divine  law,  is  drawn  from  the  good- 
ness of  the  Supreme  Being.  It  is  often  alleged,  on  what 
authority  I  know  not,  that  God  is  too  merciful  to  condemn 
so  many  of  his  creatures  as  must  suffer  if  the  letter 
of  his  word  should  be  enforced.  But,  my  hearers, 
if  this  be  true,  we  are  supposing  God  to  be  not  only  not 
just  enough  to  punish  sin,  but  not  consistent  enough  to  do  as 


386  fli' SERMON    XXIX. 

He  has  said.  Why  is  it  that  we  hear  nothing  of  such  a 
mercy  on  the  pages  of  the  Bible  ?  Was  it  not  there  that 
so  benevolent  a  design,  if,  indeed,  it  existed,  ought  to 
have  been  found  ? — and  if  it  be  not  found  there,  what  reason 
have  we  to  harbor  the  visionary  and  presumptuous  expecta- 
tion ?  Again  I  refer  you  to  the  Bible :  Was  God  too  mer- 
ciful  to  pour  over  the  world  the  ravages  of  the  deluge  ? — was 
He  too  merciful  to  encircle  devoted  Sodom  in  flames  ?  But, 
aside  from  such  cases,  was  He  too  merciful  to  hurl  the  de- 
luded angels  who  fell,  from  the  realms  of  glory  to  the  abodes 
of  unceasing  and  unmitigated  despair?  Then  He  is  not 
too  merciful  to  wreak  upon  apostate  man  the  vengeance  of 
His  violated  law.  If  he  can  punish  one  sin,  why  should  He 
not  punish  all  ?  How,  indeed,  can  He  consistently  avoid  it? 
If,  then,  we  have  a  single  unpardoned  transgression  lying 
at  our  doors,  we  may  rest  assured  that  a  righteous  God  has 
in  store  for  it,  sooner  or  later,  the  penalty  affixed  to  it  on 
the  pages  of  Inspiration, 

And  this  is  what  I  wished  to  prove. 

Now,  my  brethren,  if  I  were  to  dismiss  the  subject  here, 
what  a  dismal  cloud  would  hang  over  our  relations  to  the 
Godhead  !  Before  the  majesty  of  His  inflexible  law  we 
should  stand  guilty — condemned — with  nothing  to  say  why 
the  appalling  sentence  should  not  be  executed.  But  in  this 
state  of  desertion  and  abandonment,  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
comes  forward  and  offers  us  a  Saviour  ;  it  tells  us  of  the  Son 
of  God,  who  has  died  on  the  cross  to  reconcile  the  exercise  of 
mercy  with  the  preservation  of  justice.  It  shows  us  the  great 
High  Priest  who  has  suffered  in  our  stead — a  prince  for  his 
people,  a  father  for  his  children,  a  God  for  his  creatures.  He 
has  magnified  the  law,  and  made  it  honorable  on  the  one 
hand  ;  he  has  thrown  open,  on  the  other,  the  dungeons  of  a 
perishing  world,  and  lifted,  through  their  dark  and  dreary 
cells,  the  thundering  acclamations  of  mercy.    Ah !  could 


DIVINE    LAW    INEXORABLE.  387 

those  ill-fated  men,  whom  lately  we  saw  expire  on  the  gal- 
lows— could  they,  while  marching  out  to  the  scene  of  death, 
have  heard  that  a  substitute  was  provided — could  some  one 
have  approached  them  to  strike  off  their  fetters  and  bid  them 
return  once  more  to  the  life  they  had  forfeited — what  a  tran- 
sport of  joy  would  have  thrilled  through  their  throbbing 
hearts !  But  all  this,  and  more  than  this,  has  been  done  for 
the  sinner.  For  him  has  Calvary  been  steeped  in  blood ; 
for  him  has  Jesus  Christ  himself  gone  to  execution  ;  and 
hardly  do  we  see  in  return  the  decency  of  ordinary  grati- 
tude. And  yet  what  is  the  most  disgraceful  and  terrific 
death  of  the  body  compared  with  the  death  of  the  soul  ? 
What  are  the  chains,  the  coffin,  the  soldiery,  the  fatal  cord, 
the  last  signal,  the  choked  and  struggling  breath,  the  strain- 
ed and  glazed  eye,  the  convulsed  and  blackened  features — 
what  are  these  things  to  that  withering  sentence,  "Depart 
ye  cursed  into  everlasting  fire  !" 

Blessed  be  God,  my  hearers,  I  can  tell  you  again  that  par- 
don maybe  found.  A  Saviour  has  paid  the  price  of  your 
ransom,  and  all  things  are  ready.  But  remember  that  now 
is  the  accepted  time — to-day  is  the  day  of  salvation.  If  you 
postpone  this  hour,  you  may  be  in  eternity  the  next.  And 
when  we  have  passed,  unpardoned,  the  brink  of  the  grave, 
there  remaineth  no  more  hope:  the  violated  law  of  an  in- 
censed and  holy  God  will  take  its  course,  and  pour  upon  us 
the  unrelenting  severity  of  its  most  awful  and  most  aggra. 
vated  condemnation. 


388  SERMON  XXX. 


SERMON  XXX.* 

"  He  calleth  to  me  out  of  Seir,  "Watchman,  what  of  the  night  1" 

Isaiah^  xxL,  11. 

You  will  recollect,  my  hearers,  that  Seir  was  a  mountain 
near  the  southern  frontier  of  the  land  of  Palestine.  In  that 
quarter,  as  the  allusion  of  our  text  denotes,  it  was  employed 
for  a  post  of  military  observation.  The  people  of  Israel  were 
frequently  annoyed  by  the  incursions  of  their  unfriendly 
neighbors  in  the  south,  till  at  last  they  resorted,  when  ap- 
prehensive of  attack,  to  the  expedient  of  throwing  an  army 
at  once  upon  Mount  Seir.  The  object  was  plain.  From 
such  an  eminence,  the  whole  of  the  circumjacent  country 
might  be  overlooked.  While,  therefore,  the  troops  were 
spread  in  the  attitude  of  preparation  along  its  base,  the  sum- 
mit was  covered  with  sentinels,  to  whom  the  leader  of  the 
forces  is  supposed,  at  proper  intervals,  to  have  addressed  the 
inquiry  I  have  read  to  you,  "  Watchman^  what  of  the  night  V 
Now,  my  brethren,  we  must  be  blind  to  the  plainest  lines  of 
analogy,  not  to  see  that  the  import  of  our  text  is  by  no 
means  restricted  to  the  land  of  Palestine.  None  of  us  can 
doubt  that  the  phraseology  carries  along  with  it  an  applica- 
tion directly  and  unequivocally  religious.  None  of  us  can 
forget  that  Mount  Zion  is  the  Church  of  the  living  God  ; 
and  that  His  ministers  are  the  sentinels  stationed  upon  it ; 
and  that  they  are  honestly  to  answer,  whenever  ^o.  Saviour 
calls.  What  is  the  state  of  Christianity  ? — what  are  the  spirit- 
ual signs  of  the  times  ?  All  this  is  so  clearly  denoted  by 
the  words  of  the  prophet,  that  the  labor  of  argument  would 
be  useless. 

*  Preached  on  the  first  anniversary  of  the  opening  of  his  church. 


REPORT  OP  THE    WATCHMAN.  389 

But  perhaps  another  question  may  come  up,  for  which, 
at  first  sight,  an  answer  does  not  so  readily  appear  ;  and 
that  is,  why  the  language  of  the  text  is  more  appropriate 
to-day,  than  it  would  be  upon  any  other  occasion  ?     Why 
now,  more  than  at  any  ordinary  period,  is  the  minister  of 
this  particular  congregation  saluted  with  the  call  of  the  Sa- 
viour, "  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?"     I  will  tell  you 
the  reason,  my  hearers,  and  I  trust  you  will  not  think  it  far- 
fetched or  ideal.     This  is  the  anniversary  Sabbath  of  our 
infant  Church.    A  year  has  winged  its  flight,  since  first  we 
assembled  here  for  worship — a  year,  too,   chequered  with 
some  of  the  heaviest  visitations  of  God,  and  some  of  the 
most  impressive  and  alarming  motives  to  a  preparation  for 
eternity.     Laying  them,  however,  entirely  aside,  one  thing 
is  certain  :  it  has  been  a  year  teeming  to  all  of  us  with  the 
offers,  the  persuasions,  the  urgencies  of  the  Gospel  of  Jesus 
Christ.     Since  these  doors  were  first  opened,  who  can  say 
that  he  has  not  heard  the  voice  of  a  Saviour's  welcome — 
who  that  he  has  not  been  told  of  the  magnificent  provisions 
of  Calvary — who  that  he  has  ever  poured  out  before  God 
the  tears  of  an  unregarded  or  an  unavailing  penitence — 
who,  in  short,  can  say,  that  he  has  seen  for  a  single  hour 
the  glittering  sword  of  the  cherubim  guarding  the  way  of 
life,  and  repelling  the  approach  of  the  broken-hearted  sinner 
for  pardon  ?    Not  one.    The  judge  of  quick  and  dead  is  our 
witness — not  one  !     Rich  and  poor,  bond  and  free,  the  dis- 
ciple of  fashion,  and  the  tenant  of  obscurity — all  have  shared 
in  the  same  proposals  of  mercy — all  have  listened  alike  to 
the  news  of  God's  salvation  — and  what  has  been  the  result  ? 
This  is  the  point  now  to  be  settled.     As  a  watchman  upon 
the  walls  of  Jerusalem,  I  am  called  upon  to  render  to  Jesus 
Christ  an  account  of  the  year  we  have  closed  ;  and  while  I 
do  so,  I  appeal  to  your  consciences,  in  simplicity  and  godly 
sincerity,  for  the  truth  of  my  message  as  I  go  along. 


390  SERMON   XXX. 

In  the  first  place,  I  am  solemnly  bound  to  testify,  that 
among  the  little  band  of  the  Saviour's  professed  disciples,  the 
past  year  has  witnessed  a  most  affecting  inactivity  and  stu- 
por. The  Church  has  seemed,  almost  without  exception, 
like  a  body  whose  extremities  were  visibly  alive,  while  the 
blood  was  cold  and  curdled,  and  the  heart  quivering  in  its 
last  pulsations.  When  I  reflect,  my  brethren,  that  some  of 
us  have  taken  our  seats  around  the  sacramental  table, — when 
I  remember  that  the  vows  of  the  heart-searching  God  are 
upon  our  souls,  and  the  eyes  of  an  expecting  world  upon  our 
movements, — I  tremble  at  the  responsibility  with  which  we 
are  travelling  on  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Christ.  I  involun- 
tarily ask,  with  the  apostle  Peter,  "  What  sort  of  persons 
ought  we  to  be,  in  all  holy  conversation  and  godliness  ?" 
But  I  must  speak  the  truth.  We  have  all  been  slumbering  at 
our  posts.  Have  we  ever  felt  that  activity  of  devotion,  that 
zeal  for  the  souls  of  our  fellow-men,  which  we  ought  to  carry 
with  us  into  every  relation  of  life  ?  Alas !  we  know  too 
^  well  the  answer  which  the  recording  angel  has  registered  in 
Heaven.  Go  to  the  family  altar,  and  what  testimony  do  we 
find  there  ?  Consult  the  solitude  of  the  closet,  and  how  has 
our  secret  religion  been  coming  on  ?  What  means  it,  too, 
that  our  prayer-meetings  have  been  attended  by  numbers  so 
discouraging  to  those  who  were  present,  and  so  upbraiding 
to  those  who  were  not  ?  Surely,  if  the  venerable  exile  of 
Patmos  were  once  more  to  revisit  our  world,  he  would  speak 
to  us  as  he  did  to  the  Church  of  Sardis,  "  I  know  thy  works, 
that  thou  hast  a  name  to  live,  and  art  dead;"  and  to  this 
might  be  added,  as  it  then  was  the  declaration  of  Christ 
himself,  "  If  thou  shalt  not  watch,  I  will"  verily  "  come  upon 
thee  as  a  thief  in  the  night,"  and  "  thou  shalt  not  know  thq 
hour"  of  thy  terrible  visitation. 

But  I  have  it  to  say,  in  the  second  place,  that  parched 
and  thirsty  as  the  hill  of  Zion  has  been,  we  have  seen  a  few 


REPORT    OF    THE    WATCHMAN.  391 

— a  very  few,  who,  during  the  past  year,  have  taken  upon 
them  the  badge  of  visible  Christianity.  They  have  ven- 
tured to  that  table,  so  solemn  in  its  import,  and  so  impera- 
tive in  its  obligations,  and  received  from  it  the  symbols  of 
crucifixion  and  blood.  But  how  small  has  their  number 
been  ? — scarcely  enough  to  fill  the  seats  of  their  departed 
companions  who  have  fallen  in  the  sweep  of  the  pestilence, 
and  whose  corpses,  insensible  to  the  recollections,  which  this 
anniversary  recals,  are  resting  in  the  cold  and  silent  house 
appointed  for  all  living !  And  is  it  so,  then,  my  brethren, 
that  through  the  little  cluster  of  the  people  of  God,  death 
cuts  down  in  his  annual  havoc  as  many,  or  nearly  so,  as 
Divine  grace  supplies  by  the  power  of  its  renovation  ?  Is  it 
so,  that  the  sepulchre  is  matched  against  the  Gospel  in  com- 
petition for  numbers — the  one  for  votaries,  and  the  other  for 
victims ;  the  one  aiming  to  lay  our  heads  in  the  dust,  and 
the  other  to  train  us  to  the  hopes  of  a  Christian  immortali- 
ty  1  Yes — this  is  the  literal  arithmetic  of  fact :  eight  of  our 
communicants  fell  in  the  last  summer's  desolation,  and  only 
nine  have  yet  appeared  to  fill  their  places  in  the  Church. 
Did  I  say  only!  O,  if  I  know  a  feeling  within  me,  I  thank 
my  God  even  for  nine.  But  when  I  look  through  the  pews 
where  you  are  sitting,  and  see  so  many  for  whom  the  lashed 
and  lacerated  Saviour  expired,  that  melancholy  number  nine 
strikes  like  a  funeral  knell  upon  my  heart.  I  am  constrained 
to  ask,  Are  these  all  who  are  moving  forward  on  the  road 
to  eternity  ?  Are  these  all  who  bedew  the  tomb  of  Jesus  with 
their  tears,  and  return  him  their  gratitude  for  his  mercy  ? 
Are  these  all  who  feel  the  meltings  of  repentance,  when  the 
dying  groans  of  Calvary  break  upon  the  ear  ? 

But  I  must  proceed.  The  Son  of  God  still  presses  the  in- 
quiry, "  Watchman,  what  of  the  night  ?"  and  I  am,  therefore, 
to  hand  in  another  testimony,  in  the  third  place,  that  many 
whose  sensibilities  during  the  past  year  have  been  touched, 


392  SERMON  XXX. 

whose    consciences  have  been  awakened,    have   relapsed 
again  into  the  stupidity  of  sin. 

My  hearers,  I  wish  not  to  pry  into  the  secrecies  of  your 
private  experience ;  but  sure  I  am  that  some  of  you  have 
felt,  more  than  you  now  do,  the  solemn,  the  overwhelming 
necessity  of  personal  religion.  Merciful  God  !  how  should 
it  be  otherwise  ?  You,  who  are  carrying  about  with  you 
immortal  souls — you,  who  are  walking  on  the  washed 
and  wasted  isthmus  of  time,  unprovided  with  a  hope  for 
eternity — you,  who  have  read  the  Bible,  and  listened  to 
sermons,  and  stood  by  the  beds  of  the  dying,  and  the  graves 
of  the  dead, — how  should  you  not  have  felt  the  solemnity  of 
your  perilous  situation  ?  How  should  you  not  have  shud- 
dered to  the  very  core  of  the  heart,  when  God  has  spared 
you  a  little  longer,  and  a  little  longer,  up  to  this  hour,  and 
you,  in  return  for  His  mercy,  have  forgotten  your  fears,  and 
broken  your  promises,  and  rushed  forward  with  new  hardi- 
hood on  the  horrible  highway  of  death  ?  Say  not  that  I  am 
dealing  in  the  language  of  fancy.  If  there  be  truth  in 
Heaven,  it  is  no  fancy  ;— some  of  you  know  it  is  not ;- — 
some  of  you  could  point  back  to  the  hour  when  you  wept 
bitterly  over  your  sins,  when  you  saw  the  precipice  on  which 
you  were  trembling,  and  sought  the  rehef  of  secret  prayer, 
and  were  almost  persuaded  to  be  Christians  !  And  where 
are  you  now  ?  Halt,  I  beseech  you,  for  one  moment,  and 
ask  how  the  case  now  stands  between  God  and  your  souls  \ 
Have  you  returned  to  the  beggarly  elements  of  the  world  ? 
Are  your  anxieties  dismissed,  and  your  tears  dried  1  After 
all  that  Christ  Jesus  has  done  for  you,  shall  he  wind  up  the 
terrific  drama,  by  thundering  in  your  ears,  "  Ephraim  is 
joined  to  his  idols, — let  him  alone  1"  But  there  are  many, 
no  doubt,  who  have  never  known  these  convictions  ;  for  I  can 
testify,  in  the  fourth  place,  that  a  large  number  of  this  con- 
gregation have  gone  through  the  past  year  apparently  with 


REPORT   OP   THE   WATCHMAN.  393 

no  feeling  about  religion,  except  a  most  obdurate  and  inflex- 
ible indifference.  We  may  approach  them,  indeed,  with 
the  arguments  of  Christianity,  and  they  assent, — or  with 
its  convenience,  and  they  perceive, — or  with  its  ethics, 
and  they  admire  ;  and  thus  far  they  will  give  us  the  hand 
of  their  cordiality.  But  the  moment  any  thing  like  expe- 
rimental piety  is  brought  up,  they  demur  at  once,  and  not 
only  demur,  but  absolutely  put  away  from  them  the  whole 
religiousness  of  the  Bible,  with  all  that  is  binding  in  its  au» 
thority,  and  all  that  is  personal  in  its  application. 

My  hearers,  I  know  not  how  to  assail  this  sultry  compo- 
sure of  impenitence,  for  I  know  not  from  what  it  springs. 
Do  you  imagine  that  the  preacher  rises  in  the  sanctuary  to 
amuse  or  to  excite  you  1  Do  you  look  upon  Inspiration  as 
a  mere  picture  of  morals,  over  which  he  throws  the  coloring 
or  drapery  which  may  chance  to  suit  the  style  of  his  rhe- 
toric? If  not,  what  is  the  reason  that  doctrines,  which,  if 
true,  might  almost  move  a  heart  of  adamant  to  excitement, 
are  heard  day  after  day  with  so  little  emotion  ?  Surely,  if 
an  angel  were  to  light  upon  our  earth,  he  would  suppose,  of 
some  of  us,  that  we  expected  Christ  Jesus  to  appear  incar- 
nate, and  walk  through  our  streets.  He  would  say  that  we 
were  waiting  for  the  crimsoned  and  agonizing  scenes  of 
Calvary  to  be  acted  over  again  for  our  redemption.  In 
fact,  I  have  sometimes  thought  myself,  that  there  are  those 
among  us  who  never  will  feel  the  urgencies  of  religion,  till 
the  Son  of  Man  does  appear  in  the  splendors  of  the  judg- 
ment ;  and  if  at  other  times  I  have  a  better  hope,  it  is  not 
because  I  rely  on  any  human  instrumentalities,  but  simply 
and  entirely  because  "the  Lord  God  omnipotent  reigneth." 

Now,  my  hearers,  what,  upon  the  whole,  is  the  substance 
of  the  message  which  the  great  Captain  of  Salvation  has 
received  to-day  from  this  part  of  Mount  Zion  ?  Is  it  not 
true — and  if  true,  is  it  not  most  solemn  and  alarming  ?     Is 


394  SERMON    XXX. 

it  not  calculated  to  throw  us,  one  and  all,  upon  our  knees, 
before  God,  for  the  outpouring  of  His  Spirit,  and  the  visita- 
tions of  His  grace  '?  I  know,  indeed,  there  are  some  feel- 
ings which  this  anniversary  brings  along  with  it  of  a  glad- 
some kind.  We  cannot  forget  that  Providence  has  shed 
over  our  infant  Church  the  smiles  of  a  protecting  patronage. 
We  cannot  repress  our  recollections  of  the  distinguished 
liberality  which  has  reared  this  house  of  our  worship.  But 
when  we  go  further — when  we  leave  the  generosities  of  the 
congregation,  and  take  a  census  of  the  real  disciples  of 
Christ,  the  heart  sickens  and  sinks. 

There  is  an  incident,  my  hearers,  related  of  the  apostle 
John,  which  I  have  often  thought  of  when  standing  in  this 
desk.*  We  are  told,  that  upon  one  of  his  missionary  excur- 
sions in  the  decline  of  life,  he  became  strongly  attached  to 
a  youth  of  very  rare  accomplishments.  As  might  be  sup- 
posed, he  pressed  upon  him  the  doctrines  of  the  Gospel,  till 
at  last  his  efforts  were  crowned  with  seeming  success.  The 
young  man  was  baptised,  entered  the  communion  of  the 
Church,  and  lived  for  some  time  as  a  Christian  ;  but,  at 
length,  seduced  by  bad  examples,  he  dropped  all  his  religious 
pretensions,  and  went  on  from  step  to  step,  till  he  was  chosen 
the  leader  of  a  band  of  robbers.  When  St.  John  passed 
that  way  again,  he  learned  the  catastrophe  of  his  favorite, 
and  was  pointed  to  a  neighboring  mountain  where  he  was 
said  to  harbor.  Thither  the  aged  apostle  hurried,  and,  hav- 
ing been  seized  by  some  of  the  band,  requested  to  be  led  to 
their  captain.  The  moment  the  young  man  saw  him,  he 
attempted  to  make  off,  but  the  apostle  called  after  him,  and 
persuaded  him  to  stop.  The  robber  stood  still,  and  trembled, 
and  hid  his  convulsed  face  in  his  hands,  and  sobbed  aloud, 
till,  finally,  the  venerable  saint,  by  his  prayers  and  tears, 

♦  See  McChord's  Last  Appeal,  p.  185. 


REPORT    OF    THE  WATCHMAN.  395 

prevailed  upon  him  to  return  to  the   fold  of  a  deserted  Sa- 
viour. 

And,  my  brethren,  are  there  not  many  here  who  bear  a 
resemblance  to  that  youthful  delinquent  ?  Are  there  not 
many  the  children  of  baptism  and  prayer,  who  have  been 
nursed  in  the  arms  of  piety,  and  trained  to  the  observances 
of  religion,  and  yet  are  now  wandering  in  cheerless  exile 
from  the  Church  of  Christ  ? 

Everywhere,  indeed,  I  see  the  embellishments  of  visible 
morality,  but  I  look  in  vain  for  the  anxious  eye,  the  throb- 
bing  bosom,  the  inquiring  tongue,  to  betoken  the  pursuit  of 
experimental  godliness.  In  vain  have  you  heard  the  story 
of  the  Cross.  In  vain  has  the  friend  of  sinners  thrown  open 
the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  and  hung  out  to  you  the  signals 
of  encouragement  and  invitation.  Yet,  all  of  you,  or 
nearly  all,  have  been  taught  to  remember  your  Creator  in 
the  days  of  your  youth ;  and  though  I  cannot  speak  to 
you  with  the  reclaiming  pathos  of  the  ancient  disciple, 
I  can  say,  you  still  have  the  offer  of  pardon.  I  can  say, 
that  even  while  you  are  a  great  way  off,  you  have  a  Father 
in  Heaven  who  is  willing  to  run  and  fall  upon  your  necks 
and  welcome  you  back  to  the  ranks  of  a  rejoicing  family. 
Come,  then,  for  all  things  are  now  ready.  Come  and 
make  your  peace  with  God,  and  set  about  the  business  of 
eternity.  Come  and  drink  of  the  waters  of  life,  and  when 
next  the  Son  of  Man  shall  inquire,  '•  Watchman,  what  of 
the  night  ?"  O  let  the  answer  ring  through  the  celestial 
world,  that  the  morning  has  appeared, — that  the  day  has 
dawned,  and  the  day-spring,  from  on  high,  has  visited  us 
with  the  light  and  the  glory  of  salvation. 


396  SERMON   XXXI. 


SERMON  XXXI  * 

"  The  righteous  hath  hope  in  his  death." 

Proverbs,  xiv.,  2>% 

Next  to  the  salvation  of  men,  the  loftiest  aim  of  Chris- 
tianity is  to  strip  the  grave  of  its  terrors^  This  is  exclu- 
sively her  work.  She  has  performed  it  unaided.  It  is  an 
achievement  peculiarly  her  own  ;  and  while  we  approach, 
once  more,  the  table  she  has  spread  before  us,  I  know  of  no 
subject  better  calculated  to  awaken  in  us  a  gratitude  be- 
fitting the  solemnities  of  the  occasion.  The  truth  is,  whe- 
ther we  are,  or  are  not,  the  children  of  God,  we  must  die. 
With  that  point  religion  has  nothing  to  do;  but  it  has 
much  to  do  with  the  manner  of  dying.  It  lends  to  the  fol- 
lowers of  Christ  a  triumph  which  is  found  nowhere  else  ; 
they,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  are  walking  down  to  the 
sepulchre,  but,  unlike  the  rest  of  the  world,  they  carry  with 
them  the  promise  of  our  text,  to  cheer  them  as  they  go 
along,  and  to  shed  over  their  path  the  light  of  its  encou- 
ragement and  consolation.  Aside,  therefore,  from  any  fur- 
ther reason,  the  subject  of  death  accords  impressively  with 
the  design  of  a  Communion  Sabbath.  But  we  have  ano- 
ther inducement  for  selecting  it,  which  you  can  easily  di- 
vine. One  of  our  number,  who  looked  forward  with  joy  to 
this  day,  has  bidden  us  farewell ;  and  in  her  place,  we  see 
only  the  badges  of  mourning.  How  solemn,  my  hearers, 
is  the  dispensation  !  How  loud  and  alarming  is  the  voice 
which  issues  from  her  vacated  seat,  "  Be  ye  also  ready  !" 
Alarming^  did  I  say  ?  Why  should  it  alarm  you,  to  ex- 
change a  vale  of  tears  for  the  welcoming  bosom  of  a  Savi- 

*  Preached  on  Communion  Sabbath,  after  the  death  of  Mrs.  Brand. 


HOPE    OF    THE    RIGHTEOUS.  397 

our  ?  No  :  unbelief  may  startle — impenitence  may  be 
dismayed, — but  the  child  of  God  can  survey  the  grave  with 
a  countenance  unchanged.  He  can  look  upon  the  closing 
eye — the  shivering  pulse — the  sinking  head — the  sepulchral 
hearse — the  heavy  clod.  He  can  view  them  with  compo- 
sure ;  for  Christianity  tramples  all  these  chilly  images  un- 
der her  feet,  and  invigorates  the  misgivings  of  nature  with 
the  triumphant  assurance  of  the  Gospel,  "  The  righteous 
hath  hope  in  his  death." 

But  what  is  meant  by  the  declaration,  that  the  righteous 
hath  hope  in  his  death  1  Beyond  the  grave,  my  hearers,  all 
is  a  dark  unknown.  It  is  the  land  of  silence.  No  travel- 
ler returns  to  tell  us  what  he  has  seen,  what  he  has  heard, 
or  upon  what  state  of  being  he  has  been  ushered.  This 
mysterious  uncertainty  throws  over  all  of  us  a.  feeling  of 
suspense  and  fear ;  but  when  an  impenitent  sinner  walks 
down  to  the  tomb,  you  can  imagine  the  forebodings  which 
must  bear  him  company.  He  knows  that  he  is  guilty.  He 
feels  himself  unpardoned.  He  sees  the  tribunal  of  a  holy  God 
before  him,  and  no  Saviour,  no  Saviour  to  stand  by  him  in  the 
moment  of  launching  upon  his  final  destiny.  O,  what  must 
be  his  emotions  ?  Now,  it  is  an  exemption  from  these  ter- 
rors which  is  guaranteed  by  our  text,  to  the  children  of 
God.  The  promise  is,  that  every  real  Christian  shall  en- 
joy the  presence  of  Christ  in  his  dying  hour  ;  that  he  shall 
find  the  fear  of  the  grave  retiring  before  him  the  nearer  he 
approaches  its  brink,  and  be  enabled  to  triumph  over  all  its 
horrors.  And,  my  hearers,  we  might  presume  beforehand 
that  this  would  be  the  case.  Is  it  probable,  that  Christ 
should  cheer  his  disciples  through  life,  with  his  promises, 
and  receive  them  beyond  it  to  his  glory,  and  yet,  leave  the 
dreary  interval — the  hour  of  exchanging  worlds,  unvisited 
and  unblessed  with  his  consolations?  Is  it  likely  that,  at  the 
very  moment  when  most  they  needed  his  presence — while 
18 


398  SERMON    XXXI. 

the  most  agonizing  conflict,  the  struggle  with  the  last  ene- 
my, was  coming  on — that  then  they  should  be  left  deserted 
and  disconsolate,  when  even  the  self-possession  of  nature 
is  prostrated,  and  the  prop  of  constitutional  firmness  is  torn 
away  from  under  them  ?  No  ; — that  Saviour  who  pitieth 
the  infirmities  of  his  children  in  the  trials  of  time,  cannot, 
and  will  not,  forsake  them  when  crossing  the  threshold  of 
eternity.  But  we  have  better  evidence  than  presumptive. 
The  word  of  God  lends  to  us  its  plain  and  unequivocal  con- 
firmation. What  means  David  when  he  exclaims,  "  Though 
I  walk  through  the  valley  of  the  shadow  of  death,  I  will  fear 
no  evil :  for  thou  art  with  me.  Thy  rod  and  thy  staff  they 
comfort  me"  ?  What  means  the  prophet,  "  I  will  ransom 
them  from  the  power  of  the  grave,  for  I  am  God  and  not 
man"?  What  means  the  apostle,  "The  sting  of  death  is 
sin — but  thanks  be  to  God,  who  giveth  us  the  victory, 
through  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ"  ?  Search  the  Bible  through, 
my  hearers,  and  you  arrive  at  the  same  result  ;  you  find  a 
general  promise  issued  without  reserve  to  the  followers  of 
Christ,  and  comporting  entirely  with  the  sentiment  of  our 
text. 

But,  if  you  still  demur,  go  further,  and  consult  the  lan- 
guage of  fact.  I  have  never  known,  and  after  much  inquiry,  I 
have  never  learnt,  a  single  instance  of  a  person  dying  with- 
out some  token  of  triumph,  if  he  had  strength  to  give  it, 
who  had  lived  an  experimental  disciple  of  Christ.  The  re- 
verse of  the  position  I  do  not  assent.  1  do  not  say  that  every 
one  who  expires  with  composure,  must,  of  course,  be  a 
Christian  ;  but  I  do  say,  that,  as  far  as  I  am  informed,  no 
sincere  and  broken-hearted  child  of  God  has  ever  bidden 
farewell  to  the  world  in  tears,  unless  they  were  tears  of  joy 
and  consolation.  Often,  very  often,  have  the  hardihood  of 
impenitence  and  the  confidence  of  formality  been  dismay- 
ed at  the  door  of  the  sepulchre  ;  but  never  yet  has  beeo 


HOPE    OF    THE    RIGHTEOUS.  399 

heard  there  the  voice  of  consternation  or  terror  from  Chris- 
tian lips.  And,  my  hearers,  this  is  a  doctrine  of  no  trifling 
importance.  When  wo  come  to  stand  on  the  last  half 
hour  of  life,  we  shall  find  it  anything  but  a  trifle.  Talk  as 
we  may,  we  shall  need  some  mighty  sustaining  principle 
to  hold  us  up  in  the  day  when  God  taketh  away  the  soul ; 
and  to  banish  from  us  the  timidities  and  the  apprehensions 
of  nature.  In  vain  will  reason  whisper  her  sophistry  in  our 
ears  :  in  vain  will  philosophy  rear  around  us  the  shelter  of 
her  delusions.  Nothing  can  calm  a  sinner  on  the  breaking 
brink  of  eternity,  but^  All-sufficient  Saviour  to  take  him 
by  the  hand — to  wipe  the  tear  from  his  cheek,  and  the  sweat 
from  his  forehead,  and  to  annihilate  (he  view  of  the  grave 
by  the  loftier  view  of  the  glory  and  the  blessednt.'ss  beyond 
it.  And  who,  my  hearers,  are  meant  by  the  righteous  1 
The  appellation  cannot  denote  those  who  have  never  sin- 
ned, for  "  we  have  all  sinned  and  come  short  of  the  glory  of 
God." 

With  the  history  of  human  guilt  you  are  familiar.  You 
know,  without  leaving  the  secrecy  of  your  own  bosoms,  that 
there  is  none  who  inwardly  doeth  good — no,  not  one.  Hope, 
then,  if  hope  there  be,  must  fix  upon  the  offer  of  pardon. 
The  criminal  lies  at  the  mercy  of  his  judge,  and  the  single 
inquiry  comes  up,  whether  mercy  can  and  will  be  exer- 
cised ?  Here,  too,  you  know  the  mighty  discovery  which  In- 
spiration lays  open.  You  have  heard  of  a  provided  Savi- 
our, and  what  I  say  is,  that  in  and  through  him  alone,  can 
a  sinner  aspire  to  righteousness  in  the  eye  of  Heaven.  But 
let  me  ask  if  you  wish  to  sustain  this  relation  towards  the 
Godhead  ?  Then,  on  the  threshold,  I  call  upon  you  to  re- 
pent. It  is  the  first  step  to  salvation.  Without  it  you  may 
lie  down  at  once  in  helplessness  and  despair.  Except  ye 
repent,  ye  shall  perish.  Look  back  on  your  long  and  dreary 
course  of  alienation  from  God  ;  on  your  unbending  hardi- 


400  SERMON  XXXI. 

hood  in  making  light  of  His  Christ ;  on  the  ten  thousand 
instances  in  which  you  have  trifled  with  the  obhgations  of 
mercies,  the  warning  of  judgments,  the  urgency  of  sermons, 
the  solemnity  of  sacraments,  the  admonition  of  sickness  and 
death.  Look  back  upon  these  things  and  mourn.  Let  the 
sobbings  of  contrition  break  out  from  your  hard  and  unfeel- 
ing hearts.  Let  your  closets  find  you  on  your  knees,  and 
reverberate  with  the  agonizing  voice  of  your  supplications, 
"  God  be  merciful  to  us  sinners."  But  this  is  not  all.  Re- 
pentance will  not  make  you  righteous,  for  the  righteous- 
ness of  God  is  by  faith.  You  must  believe  in  Christ  Jesus. 
Do  not  mistake  my  meaning.  I  have  no  reference  to  the 
mere  assent  of  an  understanding  besieged  by  evidence  which 
it  cannot  resist.  If  that  were  the  principle  of  salvation,  it 
would  depopulate  the  caverns  of  woe  ;  for  not  one  is  there 
— not  one  ever  will  be,  who  does  not  in  such  a  sense  be- 
lieve. You  are  required  to  coiifide  in  the  Redeemer — to  put 
your  trust  in  him.  Your  moralities,  your  good  deeds,  and 
even  your  penitential  tears,  must  be  alike  disclaimed  and  dis- 
carded at  the  foot  of  the  Cross.  You  must  depend  upon 
Christ,  not  because  he  is  a  Saviour,  but  because  you  have 
made  him  your  Saviour  in  the  way  of  his  appointments. 
Here  you  are  secure.  As  an  evidence  that  you  are  righteous, 
I  ask  no  more  than  this  ;  but,  as  an  evidence  that  this  is 
done,  I  go  on  to  demand,  by  the  authority  of  the  Bible,  that 
you  live  religious  from  day  to  day,  in  all  holy  conversation 
and  godliness.  What  doth  it  profit  if  a  man  say  he  hath 
faith,  and  have  not  works  ?  When  you  have  surrendered 
the  indulgencies  of  the  world — when  you  get  to  disrelish  the 
least  vestige  of  sin — when  you  find  yourselves  refreshed 
on  the  road  to  eternity  by  frequent  prayer — when  you  heart- 
ily love  the  spirituality  of  God's  people — when,  in  short, 
you  feel  that  even  Heaven  without  your  God  would  be  no 
Heaven  to  you, — then,  and  not    till  then,  can  you  hope 


HOPE  OF   THE    RIGHTEOUS.  401 

that  you  have  repented  and  believed  to  the  saving  of  the 
soul. 

These  things,  therefore,  put  together,  make  up  the  specific 
character  which  Inspiration  pronounces  righteous.  Depend 
upon  it,  my  hearers,  nothing  else  will  pass  the  test  of  the 
judgment-seat — nothing  else  will  confer  immortality  on  a 
sinner.  It  is  no  matter  how  many  visible  accomplishments 
we  put  on.  They  may  furnish  us  a  passport  to  the  confi- 
dence and  esteem  of  our  fellow-men,  but  never  will  they 
decoy  the  scrutiny  of  the  heart-searching  God.  Over  all 
our  deportment,  however  lofty,  and  all  our  virtues,  however 
resplendent,  and  all  our  feelings,  however  glowing,  there 
must  preside  the  one  great  principle  of  real  religiousness,  or 
the  whole  is  only  a  magnificent  superstructure  reared  upon 
sand.     The  thunders  of  the  final  day  will  rock  it  to  atoms. 

In  dismissing  our  subject,  my  Christian  friends,  we  are 
again  reminded,  as  in  beginning  it,  of  one  who  longed  to 
see  this  day,  but  saw  it  not.  She  has  gone  down,  with  the 
hope  of  the  righteous,  to  the  dead.  Think  not  that  I  aim 
at  the  language  of  eulogy.  No  :  much  and  tenderly  as  she 
was  ioved,  an  assembly  of  sinners  is  not  the  place  for  pane- 
gyric ;  and  could  she  speak  to  us  from  on  high,  she  would 
repress  the  voice  of  praise  and  the  tear  of  regret,  and  tell 
us  only  to  gird  up  our  loins  and  keep  our  lamps  trimmed  and 
burning.  Methinks  she  would  say,  if  she  could  revisit  this 
house  of  prayer  and  resume  her  seat  at  the  table  which  once 
she  prized  so  highly,  she  would  look  around  upon  the  little 
baud  of  her  surviving  companions,  and  say,  with  affection- 
ate solemnity,  "  Prepare  to  meet  thy  God,  O  Israel !"  Lis^- 
ten,  then,  beloved  brethren,  to  the  admonitions  of  the  grave. 
Be  up  and  doing,  for  the  time  is  short.  You  are  treading 
in  the  footsteps  of  your  departed  friend.  When  another 
communion  shall  have  come  round,  some  of  you  who  now 
hear  me  may  be  missing  forever.  But  what  have  you  to 
18* 


402  SERMON  XXXI. 

fear  ?  If  Christ  be  formed  within  you  the  hope  of  glory, 
you  may  go  on  your  way  rejoicing.  True,  you  must  die ; 
and  you  know  not  how  soon  or  how  suddenly  ;  but  your 
Saviour  is  sitting  at  the  helm  of  the  universe,  and  you  may 
confide  in  him.  He  will  bear  you  forward  through  the  an- 
guish of  disease,  and  irradiate  your  expiring  hour  with  the 
light  of  a  promised  immortality.  Yes,  more :  He  will  watch 
over  your  slumbering  dust,  and  present  you  before  the  throne 
of  the  Father,  without  spot  or  wrinkle,  or  any  such  thing. 
He  will  open  to  you  the  portals  of  Heaven,  and  wipe  all 
tears  from  your  eyes,  and  raise  from  your  golden  harps  the 
sublime  and  triumphant  anthem — Worthy  is  the  lamb  that 
was  slain,  through  an  endless  eternity.  O  !  who  that  thinks 
of  this  would  not  be  a  Christian  ?  Who  can  look  at  the 
majestic  and  animating  scene,  and  not  exclaim,  with  the 
ancient  prophet,  "Let  me  die  the  death  of  the  righteous, 
and  let  my  last  end  be  like  his." 


MORAL    INSANITY   OP    MAN.  403 


SERMON  XXXII. 

"  They  are  a  nation  void  of  knowledge,  neither  is  there  any  under- 
standing in  them. 

"  O,  that  they  were  wise,  that  they  understood  this,  that  they  would 
consider  their  latter  end." 

Deut.,  xxxii.,  28,  29. 

This  is  the  language  of  Moses,  the  illustrious  legislator  of 
antiquity.  It  composes  a  part  of  his  valedictory  address  to 
the  people  of  Israel,  after  conducting  them  to  the  frontiers 
of  the  promised  land.  The  whole  transaction  took  place  a 
few  hours  previous  to  his  death,  and  carries  about  it  the  so- 
lemnity which  an  expectation  of  such  an  event  would  be 
likely  to  inspire.  Just  before  resigning  his  command  to 
Joshua,  he  assembled  the  weeping  pilgrims  who  had  forty 
years  been  conducted  by  his  care  in  their  travels,  and  breathed 
to  them  his  last  and  most  impressive  exhortation,  to  which 
our  text  belongs. 

Mark,  my  hearers,  the  fidelity  of  this  venerable  saint.  He 
tells  the  Israelites  all  the  enormity  and  all  the  ingratitude  of 
their  sins.  Then  mark  his  affection.  He  pours  out  a  devout 
aspiration  to  God,  that  they  might  be  reclaimed  to  a  saving 
penitence.  Such,  and  such  only,  is  the  way  in  which  a  herald 
of  the  Divine  mercy  can  testify  a  real  attachment  to  those 
who  sit  under  the  droppings  of  his  ministrations.  Now,  hav- 
ing read  two  verses  for  your  meditation  to-day,  we  shall  offer 
a  single  explanatory  remark  upon  each,  and  then  proceed  to 
the  subject  which  they  were  meant  to  introduce. 

The  first  verse  runs,  "  They  are  a  nation  void  of  know- 
ledge, neither  is  there  any  understanding  in  them."  This 
phraseology  is  far  from  retaining  its  original  import.  In  the 
Hebrew,  the  idea  conveyed  is  that  they  are  morally  insane 


404  SERMON  XXXII. 

— that  they  have  a  disorder  at  heart  analogous  to  mental 
derangement.  As  to  the  second  verse,  the  proper  transla- 
tion appears  to  be  :  O,  that  they  were  wise ;  then  they  would 
understand  this  ;  then  they  would  consider  their  latter  end  ; 
— and  the  expression  of  understanding  this,  refers  back  to 
the  charge  of  moral  insanity,  which  sinners,  untaught  by 
the  light  of  God's  spirit^  are  unable  suitably  to  comprehend. 
If,  therefore,  the  language  of  Moses  were  paraphrased  into  a 
single  sentence,  we  should  read,  "  O,  that  the  impenitent 
had  true  wisdom ;  then  would  they  know  the  fatal  distem- 
per which  is  seated  in  their  hearts ;  then  would  they  begin 
in  earnest  the  work  of  preparation  for  death  and  eternity." 
Let  this  be  assumed  as  the  sense  of  the  passage. 

The  inquiry  which,  on  the  threshold,  comes  most  promi- 
nently up,  is.  What  is  that  wisdom  on  which  such  conse- 
quences are  said  to  depend  1  Do  not  suppose  I  mean  to 
answer  this  question  in  conformity  alone  to  my  own  views. 
Do  not  imagine  that  I  will  repeat  to  you  the  word  repent- 
ance, or  religion,  or  Christianity,  as  if  either  of  them  made 
up  of  course  the  attribute  about  which  we  are  inquiring. 
No  ;  let  us  go  fairly  and  logically  to  work.  We  will  follow 
a  course  of  retiectiou  which  no  one  can  object  to,  and,  lead 
where  it  may,  we  will  go  along  with  it,  and  abide  the  issue. 
In  the  outset,  then,  that  wisdom  is  plainly  the  safest,  which 
derives  its  origin  from  the  safest  source.  Collect  the  most 
profound  plans  which  human  ingenuity  ever  devised,  and 
you  see  them  baffled  every  day.  Not  all  of  them  together 
can  ensure  happiness.  The  intellect  of  man  is  at  best  but 
feeble,  and  its  proudest  achievements  are  often  grounded  in 
error.  But  where  is  the  remedy  ?  Why,  if  the  infinite  God 
has  proclaimed  a  system  of  designs  for  our  happiness,  there 
is  a  remedy.  There  is  something  which  can  be  looked  upon 
without  a  feeling  of  distrust.  Whatever  ii  proposes  is  se- 
cure :  we  may  lean  upon  it  with  confidence,  for  the  most 


MORAL    INSANITY   OF    MAN.  405 

obvious  and  consolirg  of  all  reasons  in  the  world,  becausa 
the  mouth  of  the  Lord  hath  spoken  it. 

Again  ;  That  wisdom  is  confessedly  the  best,  which  has 
the  best  object  in  view.  What  is  the  amount  of  all  those 
projects  which  a  common  consent  has  put  in  motion  for  the 
benefit  of  mankind?  It  is  simply  this  :  To  be  happy  we  must 
launch  out  into  sensual  indulgence ;  to  be  honorable,  we 
must  keep  a  pistol  or  a  poignard  ;  to  be  good,  we  must  be 
Eo^worse  than  others.  Is  there  any  cure  for  such  an  evil  ? 
If  there  be,  let  us  bid  it  welcome.  Here  is  a  book,  bestowed 
by  the  inspiration  of  the  Almighty,  which  offers  to  lay  the 
axe  at  the  root  of  the  tree :  which  aims,  by  cleansing  the 
leprosy  of  our  hearts,  to  correct  the  excesses  of  our  sins,  and 
to  restore  to  the  desolated  bosom  of  man  the  pure  and  puri- 
fying image  of  his  Maker. 

Again  :  That  wisdom  is  evidently  the  noblest,  which 
brings  about  the  noblest  results.  Admitting,  then,  that  we 
pass  over  the  whole  range  of  human  invention,  we  arrive 
only  at  enjoyments  of  an  inferior  kind.  The  splendors  of 
wealth — the  refinements  of  luxury — the  laurels  of  applause 
— this  is  what  the  world  confers  on  its  favorite  votaries,  and 
only  on  them,  for  the  great  mass  of  men  are  strangers  even 
to  this.  Revelation  opens,  beyond  the  trifles  of  sublunary 
temptation,  a  higher  destiny.  It  stretches  forth  the  hand  of 
mercy  to  save  our  souls  ;  and  just  so  much  as  the  soul  sur- 
passes the  body  in  its  claim  to  our  anxieties,  just  so  much 
do  the  disclosures  of  Revelation  transcend  the  little  schemes 
of  our  earthly  policy. 

Once  more  :  That  wisdom  is  assuredly  the  most  to  be 
prized  which  is  the  most  lasting  in  its  duration.  We  may 
allow  the  pleasures  of  the  world  to  be  a  thousand  times 
greater  than  they  actually  are,  and  yet  they  dwindle  to 
nothing,  when  the  damping  reflection  comes  in  upon  us, 


406  SERMON  XXXII. 

that  we  can  hold  them  only  for  a  moment.  The  grave 
rifles  us  of  all  temporal  blessings,  and  that,  too,  frequently 
without  finding  us  in  the  attitude  of  preparation  for  the  ca- 
tastrophe. If  there  be  any  thing  which  will  last  beyond  the 
grave,  it  is  the  inheritance  which  the  word  of  God  bestows. 
That  will  survive  the  changes  of  time.  It  will  outlive  the 
desolations  of  the  universe — it  will  abide  through  a  never- 
ending  eternity.  Housed  in  an  everlasting  habitation,  the 
saint  will  rejoice  forever,  with  no  vicissitudes  to  endanger 
his  happiness,  and  no  reverses  to  interrupt  the  triumph  and 
the  glory  of  hereafter. 

By  this  time,  then,  I  presume,  my  hearers,  you  are  con- 
vinced that  true  wisdom  is  only  another  term  for  the  religion 
of  the  Bible  ;  and  if  the  considerations  I  have  named  to  you 
carry  the  least  weight  along  with  them,  I  may  safely  chal- 
lenge the  most  inordinate  lover  of  the  world  to  resist  the  con- 
clusion. But  I  have  not  yet  done  with  this  branch  of  the  sub- 
ject. Wisdom,  indeed,  is  religion ;  but  it  is  not  religion  in  the 
abstract,  nor  religion  in  its  external  decencies  and  embellish- 
ments, but  religion  in  the  detail  of  its  experimental  operations. 
What  is  it  to  me,  that  God  has  offered  mercy  to  the  sinner,  if 
I  have  never  complied  with  the  conditions  on  which  it  is  dis- 
pensed ?  What  is  it  to  me  that  a  Saviour  is  provided,  if  I  have 
never  made  him  mine  by  that  personal  act  which  distinguishes 
the  criminal  pardoned  from  the  criminal  condemned  ?  No: 
there  is  a  mighty  cleansing,  which  niust  be  put  forth  upon 
the  heart ;  there  is  the  process  of  a  deep  and  serious  repent- 
ance ;  there  is  the  business  of  closing  in  with  the  overtures 
held  out  to  us,  and  of  setting  our  seals  as  one  of  the  parties 
to  the  transaction — all  these  things  it  is  which  constitute 
on  our  part  that  wisdom  which  cometh  from  above.  Now, 
about  this  high  and  transforming  attribute,  we  are  told  in 
our  text,  that  it  produces  two  results  :  It  makes  us  "  under- 


MORAL    INSANITY    OF    MAN.  407 

stand"  that  great  moral  distemper  of  the  impenitent  heart, 
to  which  Moses  gives  the  notion  of  insanity  ;  and  it  makes 
us  consider  our  latter  end,  and  take  up  the  work  of  prepara- 
tion. In  the  first  place,  it  shows  us  the  insanity  of  the  heart 
in  a  state  of  impenitence. 

Do  not  be  alarmed  at  the  mention  of  insanity.  It  is 
precisely  the  idea  which  the  ancient  law-giver  had  in 
uttering  the  sentiment  before  us  ;  and  upon  every  principle 
of  analogy,  the  application  is  entirely  applicable  to  that 
man  who  lives  without  God,  and  without  hope  in  the  world. 
In  what  consists  the  evidence  of  mental  derangement  ? 
One  indication  of  it  is,  that  the  individual  possesses  the 
strongest  confidence  of  his  own  soundness,  while  others,  in 
their  senses,  he  looks  upon  as  disordered.  Apply  the  test 
to  the  ranks  of  impenitence.  Consult  the  sinner,  who 
is  pressing  forward  to  eternity  without  an  interest  in  Christ, 
and  whatever  an  affected  humility  may  induce  him  to  ac- 
knowledge, the  prevaihng  persuasion  which  governs  him  is, 
that  "  all  is  well."  The  man  may  think  rightly,  or  reason 
rightly,  or  talk  rightly  ;  but  he  feels  altogether  inconsistent- 
ly with  a  becoming  sense  of  his  danger  and  his  guilt.  He 
soothes  himself  with  the  whisper  of  "  Peace,  peace,"  while 
every  page  of  the  Bible  aims  a  deadly  blow  at  the  founda- 
tions of  his  security  ;  and  all  this  time,  too,  where  anything 
like  the  fervor  of  personal  rehgion  meets  his  eye,  he  regards 
it  as  the  effect  of  excitement,  or  as  being  righteous  over- 
much, or,  in  short,  as  the  exuberance  of  a  heated  imagina- 
tion. "  Paul,"  said  the  Roman  proconsul,  "  much  learning 
doth  make  thee  mad  ;"  but  little  did  he  think  that  the 
charge  laid  against  himself,  and  not  against  the  apostle. 

Another  symptom  of  intellectual  insanity  is  the  singular 
fondness  it  awakens  for  trifles.  If  you  have  ever  visited 
an  asylum,  where  the  principle  is  exemphfied,  you  have 
seen  its  wretched  inmates  busied  in  the  arrangement  of 


408  SERMON  XXXI r. 

their  favorite  straws,  or  pebbles,  or  pictures — of  every  thing, 
in  a  word,  on  which  their  attention  would  never  have  been 
employed,  but  for  the  malady  under  which  they  labored  ; 
and  can  you  detect  no  resemblance  here  to  the  infatuation 
of  mankind,  who  engross  themselves  with  the  little  anxie- 
ties of  time,  while  an  unprovided  eternity  is  forgotten  ? 
Look  abroad  upon  the  theatre  of  human  life,  and  what  do 
you  find,  but  one  unceasing  struggle  for  those  fleeting  toys, 
which,  in  an  angel's  eye,  appear  as  vain  and  as  visionary 
as  the  bagatelles  of  a  lunatic,  or  the  play-things  of  an  in- 
fant, do  to  us.  But  another  indication  of  a  deranged  mind 
is,  that  it  is  often  visited  with  lucid  intervals ;  and  does  our 
analogy  stop  at  this  point  ?  Is  this  a  consideration,  for 
which  no  parallel  betrays  itself  among  the  votaries  of  impeni- 
tence? Why  is  it,  then,  that  your  cheeks  are  sometimes 
bathed  in  tears  while  listening  to  the  story  of  our  ingratitude 
and  obduracy  ?  Why  do  you  feel  the  risings  of  remorse  when 
reminded  of  the  mighty  agony  which  a  dying  Saviour  en- 
dured for  your  redemption  ?  Why,  in  some  moment  of 
compunctuous  visitation,  are  your  stubborn  knees  bent  in 
your  closets,  while  the  supplication  groans  out  from  your 
lips,  "  God  be  merciful  to  us,  sinners"?  Are  not  these  your 
lucid  intervals  ?  It  may  be,  indeed,  that  you  have  never 
had  such  seasons.  You  may  have  remained  callous  to 
the  whole  subject  of  religion,  and  the  whole  assemblage  of 
motives,  which  urge  upon  you  the  business  of  eternity ; — 
and  if  so,  the  text  comes  home  to  you  with  invigorated  em- 
phasis, for  certain  it  is,  that  the  less  you  have  felt  your- 
selves, the  more  you  have  proved  to  others  the  reahty  of 
your  moral  alienation.  Well,  then,  may  I  repeat  the  de- 
vout aspiration  of  Moses,  "  O,  that  you  were  wise  ;  then 
would  you  understand  this ;  then  would  you  see  your  im- 
penitence in  all  the  leprosy  of  its  guilt ;  and  your  first  and 
highest  aim  would  be,  to  secure  from  the  great  Physician 


MORAL    INSANITY   OF    MAN.  409 

of  souls  the  influence  of  His  grace,  and  the  joys  of  His 
salvation." 

But  the  wisdom  about  which  we  have  spoken,  produces, 
in  the  second  place,  the  result  of  making  us  consider  our 
latter  end,  and  take  up  the  work  of  preparation.  When 
this  is  done,  much  is  gained.  The  reason  of  our  remaining 
at  so  great  a  distance  from  our  duty,  is  not  a  fixed  opposi- 
tion, but  a  strange  and  unaccountable  indifference  to  it. 
It  is  neglect  more  than  positive  hostility.  Cast  your  eyes 
over  the  world.  Look,  for  example,  on  the  disciples  of 
pleasure  and  fashion.  Watch  them  as  they  tread,  day  after 
day,  the  giddy  round  of  their  propensities.  It  is  not  because 
they  are  intrenched  in  a  set  of  principles  which  authorize 
their  thoughtlessness.  Far  from  it ;  they  know  full  well, 
that  the  occupation  of  sinners  ought  to  be  very  different, 
and  if  they  reflect  sufficiently  at  all,  they  retain  through 
the  whole  of  their  indulgencies  the  resolution  of  exchang- 
ing  them,  at  some  future  day,  for  the  pursuits  of  serious 
Christianity.  But  the  difficulty  is,  they  find  no  time  for 
consideration ;  they  press  on  from  one  phantom  to  another, 
without  looking  for  a  moment  back  upon  the  ground  over 
which  they  have  passed  ;  and  sure  I  am  that  nothing  would 
so  completely  depopulate  the  gaming-house,  the  table  of  re- 
velry, the  scene  of  excess,  not  to  mention  places  of  more 
decent  resort,  as  for  each  of  their  votaries  to  employ  one 
half-hour  of  every  day  in  the  business  of  sober  meditation 
upon  his  course. 

But  again  :  Survey  the  thinking  and  serious  part  of  com- 
munity. How  comes  it,  that  no  more  of  them  are  experi- 
mental Christians.  Not,  surely,  because  they  ward  off  the 
urgencies  of  religion  by  denying  its  claims  to  credit  ?  By 
no  means.  They  believe  to  the  full  extent  that  this  is  re- 
quired of  them,  and  they  reflect  too  upon  the  subject,  in  all 
the  bearings  of  its  general  application.  But  they  over- 
19 


410  SERMON   XXXII. 

look  the  personalities  of  its  import.  They  think,  and  read, 
and  contemplate  for  months  together,  without  going  at  once 
into  the  secrecy  of  their  own  bosoms,  and  pronouncing,  at 
the  bar  of  conscience,  the  declaration  of  the  prophet, 
"  Thou  art  the  man."  Here,  too,  the  want  of  consideration 
lies  at  the  bottom  of  the  evil,  for,  although  they  consider 
every  thing  in  the  gross,  they  consider  nothing  in  the  de- 
tail ;  and  thus  it  was  that  the  apostle,  when  addressing 
those  who  had  been  familiar  from  infancy  with  the  doctrines 
of  religion,  introduced  the  significant  inquiry,  *' How  shall 
we  escape  if  we  neglect  so  great  a  salvation  ?"  But  once 
more :  Go  into  the  visible  Church.  You  have  noticed 
many,  I  doubt  not,  distinguished  by  the  badge  of  Christi- 
anity,  who  seemingly  have  little  or  none  of  the  spirit  of 
Christianity  along  with  it.  It  is  so,  beyond  a  question ; 
but  of  all  who  belong  to  this  class,  few,  very  few,  have  as- 
sumed the  name  of  Christians  for  the  sake  of  expediency,  or 
of  profit.  They  did  it,  for  the  most  part,  under  the  excite- 
ment of  serious  feelings  at  the  moment ;  and  now  it  is,  that 
the  feelings  have  worn  away,  while  the  profession  remains, 
and  with  it  a  show  of  consistency,  which  human  nature  in 
every  situation  loves  to  keep  up.  Yes  ;  and  is  there  no  an- 
tidote to  this  ?  Undoubtedly,  there  ought  to  be  ;  for  the 
work  of  suitable  consideration  would  impress  on  every  mind 
the  tremendous  solemnity  of  an  act  so  repugnant  to  the 
Godhead.  But  that  work  is  neglected — the  heart  settles 
down  into  stupidity — familiarity  with  sacred  things  in- 
creases the  evil — and  among  the  unworthy  members  of  a 
Christian  communion,  there  is  less  of  that  deep  and  solemn 
consideration  befitting  their  condition,  than  is  to  be  met 
with  among  any  other  class  of  men  in  the  world.  How 
justly  then,  my  hearers,  may  the  prayer  of  Moses  be  reiter- 
ated, "O,  that  you  were  wise."  Then  would  you  consider 
your  latter  end.     You  would  halt  in  the  career  of  infatu- 


MORAL    INSANITY  OF    MAN.  411 

ated  and  unsuspicious  impenitence,  and  put  on  a  becoming 
preparation  for  the  grave ;  and  not  a  moment's  sleep  would 
be  given  to  your  eyes,  nor  slumber  to  your  eyelids,  till  you 
had  made  the  destinies  of  eternity  sure. 

Now,  my  hearers,  all  these  representations  of  human  na- 
ture you  may  carry  home  to  your  own  consciences.  They 
are  sanctioned  by  the  word  of  God,  and  I  appeal  to  you  if 
they  be  not  confirmed  by  every  day's  experience.  You  may 
be  surprised  to  hear  that  you  have  about  you  a  disease 
analogous  to  insanity.  But  what  better  is  it,  that  you  wrap 
yourselves  so  completely  up  in  the  pitiful  concerns  of  a 
world  you  must  soon  surrender  ?  Should  you  see  one  of 
your  number  rejecting  the  offer  of  riches  and  abundance, 
and  employed  in  collecting  the  straws  that  had  chanced  to 
be  blown  along  your  streets,  would  you  hesitate  in  suppos- 
ing him  deranged  ?  I  lay  the  case  at  your  own  doors  — 
What  in  Heaven's  eye  must  be  your  character,  while  buried 
in  the  trifles  of  earth,  and  pushing  away  from  you  all  the 
magnificence  and  glory  of  God's  salvation  ?  Perhaps  you 
may  wonder  that  you  are  charged  with  inattention  to  your 
latter  end.  Your  moralities  and  virtues  may  have  thrown 
over  you,  in  reference  to  a  future  life,  a  feeling  of  security 
and  confidence.  But  let  me  inquire.  Have  you  made  Jesus 
Christ  your  friend  ?  Have  you  heard  on  your  knees  the 
whisper  of  his  everlasting  mercy  to  your  souls  ?  If  not, 
cast  away  from  you  the  delusion  of  your  hope.  You  have 
something  else,  and  something  greater,  to  do,  before  you 
have  settled  the  business  of  eternity.  You  must  consider 
the  subject  in  a  different  light,  a  light  reflected  from  the 
mercy  of  God  in  Christ,  or  the  whole  is  a  dream,  which  the 
morning  of  the  final  day  will  dissolve.  Hear  the  compas- 
sion of  the  Saviour,  speaking  through  the  ancient  saint,  "  O, 
that  you  were  wise."  Will  you  resist  this  impressive  ex- 
postulation ?     Will  you  close  your  eyes  to  your  dying  hour 


4*12  SERMON  XXXII. 

— to  the  judgment-seat — to  a  coming  eternity, — and  urge  on 
the  catastrophe  which  God  himself  has  interposed  to  avert  ? 
"  Why  will  ye  die,  O  house  of  Israel  ?"  Why  will  you  sit 
while  the  solemnities  of  the  Bible  are  moving  forward  to 
their  accomplishment :  while  the  season*  of  accustomed 
desolation  is  approaching,  which  may  lay  your  heads  in  the 
dust.  Why  will  you  sit  unmoved  under  the  appeals  of  a  Sa- 
viour's Gospel  ?  You  well  know  nothing  more  can  be  done 
to  save  you,  than  is  done.  Will  you,  then,  listen  to  the 
fatal  whisper  of,  "Peace,  peace,"  when  God  has  said,  "There 
is  no  peace  to  the  wicked  ?"  Make  up  your  minds.  Either 
bid  the  mercy  of  Christ  to  desert  you  forever,  and  leave  you 
to  go  down  to  hell,  or  seize  this  hour  on  the  offers  of  par- 
don ;  for,  "  Behold,  now  is  the  accepted  time,  to-day  is  the 
day  of  salvation." 

*  The  annual  epidemic  at  New-Orleans. 


r  , 


DATE  DUE 

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CAYLORO 

rniNTEOINU.S.A. 

